The Scent of a Rose
by Elbereth04
Summary: English pride would have Arthur dead before he ever wore a swastika.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fan fic is a *very* long time and my first Hetalia fan fic, so if the first chapter isn't that fantastic give me a break. Also, if you read this and decide my grammar is awful, I would love for someone to beta this story.

Arthur Kirkland's heart twisted painfully as he watched his lover run the opposite direction. He had ordered Francis to go; all he hoped was that Francis made it back to his country alive. Francis begged to be allowed to stay by his lovers side "But, Arthur, mon amor, I cannot leave you" he had protested even as the Frenchman ducked at the sound of the missiles destroying a building too close for comfort.

"Francis, please!" Arthur pleaded "I know that you risked your life to come here and be with me but it's too dangerous for someone like you. I need to be here with my people and you need to be back in France tending to your own people. You can't abandon them."

Francis was tortured; he knew Arthur was right but he also knew there was no way he could leave Arthur. They had only been together now for a year and it had taken five times that for the two to admit they cared for each other. Why the hell did Ludwig's boss decide that now was the time for war?

"Francis!" Arthur shouted above the sound of gunfire on the streets below "Get out of here" and then the Englishman grabbed the Frenchman and kissed him with desperate passion "I *will* find you after this god forsaken war is over and we *will* be together again. I swear it" he whispered in Francis' ear.

"Je t'aime, Arthur" Francis whispered back and then turned and started down the stairs to the roof of the building they had been standing on.

Of course Arthur would be at the center of the fight defending his land; he was stubborn enough to stand on top of a building while the rest of his country was getting bombed. 'It gives me the best view of my city so I know first-hand where to send my troops. I can't be bothered with waiting for messengers to give me status updates. I need to be there myself' England had fervently argued when Francis had called him crazy.

Francis was not born a fighter and didn't care much for war strategies, which would probably be why half of France was now currently occupied by Germany. He didn't care, much, about that though his only thought was that he knew England would never sit there and let Germany occupy them. English pride would have Arthur dead before he ever wore a swastika.

He needed to stop worrying about Arthur so much if he wanted to actually make it back to his country alive, the same bull headedness that kept his love on top of a roof barking orders would be the same stubbornness that kept the man alive. When Arthur made promises he didn't break them; something about the code of a gentleman he had told Francis once.

"Sir! You need to move to the safety of a shelter, the air bombers are out there in force. If any of them see you on top of this roof…" one of Arthur's commanders was yelling at him.

"I already know that you prat! If you don't have any other useful advice then get out of my sight." Arthur practically snarled back to the soldier.

"Y...yes sir!" the man saluted and ran off into the battle.

Arthur let out a breath and concentrated on the sight in front of him. His entire country was practically on fire with the constant air raids. He had to come up with a better strategy if he didn't want to end up like France or any of the other countries that had been occupied…

That's when everything went wrong; somebody yelled his name and Arthur looked up and almost as if in slow motion saw the bomb descend on the building he was standing on and then his entire world literally crumbled from beneath him.


	2. Chapter 2

England woke to bright lights and to a female voice saying something about a miracle and "…nobody else on that building survived." He opened his eyes to the blinding light of a hospital room and a terrible headache as well as general aches and pains everywhere.

The nurses looked astonished at the fact that he was awake. One of the nurses took charge "Welcome back, Mr. Kirkland, it's nice to see you're finally awake. We'll get someone in here to get you showered and help you brush your teeth."

Arthur blinked "Why am I here?" he asked. He strained trying to figure out what he could have done that lead him to be in a hospital bed but he was coming up short.

"It was an air raid, sir, the building you were on top of was bombed. It's a bloody miracle you survived, nobody else near your building survived" the blonde nurse, who seemed to be in charge, answered.

"Thank you…" Arthur muttered and tried to remember any details about an air raid but every time he thought too hard about it his headache only increased.

"The doctor will be around to check up on you shortly, just lay there and rest awhile, sir" the blonde nurse said sweetly as if it was just a normal day for her, which it probably was.

Arthur closed his eyes and let out a breath, he didn't want to freak out just yet, he was sure that he would remember what was going on it would only be a matter of time.

Just as the british man was drifting off into an uneasy sleep he heard words that made his head hurt more if possible "Arthur, mon amour, are you awake?"

"No" Arthur said while pulling the covers over his head "Go away, frog"

Francis rushed to his loves bedside "Arthur, merci dieu, you are finally awake! I have waited so long…" the frenchman made no attempt to stop the tears of joy that were forming as he took England's hand in his.

"G...get off!" Arthur sputtered wrenching his hand away. Francis took a step back wounded slightly "Arthur? What is wrong amour?"

"Isn't it quite obvious? You're here." The British man said annoyed.

"J'ai pensé que vous seriez heureux de me voir" Francis responded quietly, reverting back to French.

"The only thing I will be happy about is when you leave. I already have plenty of nurse's thank you" was Arthurs retort.

Francis was unusually hurt by Arthurs words, normally he brushed off Arthurs insults but this was different; they were in love now. Not to mention the fact that Arthur could have easily died in the explosion. This was no time for Arthur to act in such a manner; couldn't Arthur see that he was a nervous wreck worrying about him all this time? He left the room without saying another word and waited outside the room until he saw Arthurs doctor coming towards him.

"After you examine him can you come back and tell me what he's so angry about s'il vous plait? He won't even talk to me…" Francis explained to the doctor. The man gave a nod and told Francis to have a seat in the waiting room until he was finished with the examination.

It seemed like forever but the doctor eventually came back out and ran a hand through his hair in an exasperated manner "That man has temper doesn't he?" the doctor asked rhetorically. "Anyways, Mr. Bonnefoy, Arthur is going to make a full recovery eventually."

"Finalement?" Francis returned with azure eyes dancing in confusion.

"Mr. Kirkland is suffering from some head trauma and he seems to have lost his short term memory up to about a year." The doctor stated matter of factly.

"So, you're saying that anything that happened this past year he does not remember?" Francis asked hesitantly.

The doctor nodded "I'm sorry Mr. Bonnefoy" and then turned to go about his day.

"Pourquoi?" the blonde shouted angrily to the ceiling and for the second time that day Francis Bonnefoy cried.

A/N- J'ai pensé que vous seriez heureux de me voir: I thought that you would be happy to see me.

Also, I apologize if my fail French is fail, all I'm using is Google Translate since I speak zero French.


	3. Chapter 3

The man known as the country of love sat in the chair of the waiting room and just stared blankly ahead hoping that at any moment Arthur would burst out of the room and call him silly for actually believing he lost his memory. He waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually the blonde nurse from earlier informed him that Arthur had finally gone back to sleep and if he wanted to say goodnight to his love, he should go on in.

Francis stood up and straightened out his jacket before walking into Arthurs room.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur woke in the morning and the first question he asked was how soon he could be rid of the bed. "I need to be out there defending my land or don't you idiots understand that?" he had yelled at the doctor.

"Mr. Kirkland, we understand how you feel but if you recall correctly, it was your rash decisions that landed you in this hospital bed to begin with now if you would please just lay back down..."

"I don't care about that and I don't care that you say I've lost some of my memory either. I didn't lose the ability to defend my country!"

The doctor sighed "You are healing at a remarkable speed, but your memory has not returned. We would like for you to stay for at least a few more days so we can run some tests and figure out why that is.

Arthur stubbornly ignored the doctor "I'm sorry but I can't be your test subject. I'll be leaving as soon I am showered and dressed. If you would be so kind as to draw up the release papers."

The doctor sighed heavily; he had no medical reason to stop the man from leaving "I'll draw the papers for you Mr. Kirkland. "

A short time later Arthur was buttoning up his signature green military uniform when he saw the rose that had been placed in his pocket. He smelled the rose simply out of reflex and took in the natural fragrance and…something else? He buried his nose into the flower and took in the scent of the cologne and something tugged at Arthur's memory. Why did he know that scent? The doctors had told him he lost his short term memory did that have something to do with why he felt like he knew this scent? The more he seemed to concentrate on trying to remember the more his head started to hurt. Not wanting to give the doctor any reason to detain him any longer, the stubborn Englishman stuffed the rose in his pants pocket without giving it another thought and after promising the doctor he would fill his prescription pain killers and call if he had any complications, he was on his way out of the hospital.

Arthur would have to go directly to where the action was and since the air raids were mainly concentrated in London that's where he was off to.

The taxi took Arthur as close to Buckingham Palace as possible. Buckingham is where the King would be and that's where they would need him the most. When Arthur stepped out of the taxi and looked around at the once fair city of London he felt sick; the German bastards were relentless. There were fires everywhere and the amount of smoke was sickening. As he walked through the streets of London towards the palace he was furthered sickened by the sight of children who had been rendered homeless by the onslaught.

Upon his arrival in the palace he saw the courtyard in ruins and a shiver ran through his body. The relieved faces among his soldiers and among the Royal Family helped his morale a little. "I came back as soon as I could, your majesty" he explained with a short bow of respect. The King waved his hand in dismissal of the formality "We need a plan, Arthur, and you're the strategic genius around here" he explained.

"Thank you, sir; I will need a briefing on what has happened in my absence and…this past year. The bombing seems to have caused some short term memory loss. "Arthur responded in a tone that was halfway between irritated and halfway apologetic. He hated wasting time like this when the Germans were out there destroying all of London.

Arthur didn't mind that the docks were severely damaged, he didn't care that business in the west end were rendered devastated; what he did mind was the amount of civilian casualties that followed the report. The Nazi bastards were going to pay.

"What about a counter attack on Berlin?" he suggested angrily.

The King shook his head "We tried a counter attack, that's what led to the past 30 days of air raids. Hitler is furious with us; we killed 10 German citizens in our raid and he kills 500 of ours in retaliation. We're running out of ideas, Arthur and the Royal Air Force hasn't been able to put even a dent in the Luftwaffe."

Arthur had to sit down; he needed time to think of how they were going to deal with this. "What about the women and children?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"3.5 million were evacuated before the worst of it hit us, and we continue to evacuate more as quickly as possible. Some are stubborn though and they refuse to leave; the boy scouts have been reportedly directing the fire brigade where they are needed the most and the civilians have labeled them 'The Blitz Scouts' was the answer he received and Arthur thought he detected a hint of pride in it.

"What of the remaining civilians? Are there enough shelters for them?"

"We're encouraging all civilians to construct Anderson Shelters in their backyards"

"What about the homeless?" Arthur argued "It's quite difficult to build a shelter in your backyard when your backyard is covered by the ruble of your house. Where do the homeless go?"

"We're thinking of using the underground Tube stations for shelters but that hasn't been finalized yet. We need to concentrate on our retaliation strategy, Mr. Kirkland, if you don't mind" the King reprimanded, trying to keep the nation on topic.

"What good is a country if there are no civilians left to inhabit it?" Arthur muttered under his breathe.

"What good is a country to the surviving citizens if it's burnt to the ground?" King George wisely answered.

"Right," Arthur acknowledged trying to think of a long term strategy to save his country "What's the date today?"

"October 14th" King George answered.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, I had to do a lot of fact checking to make sure I wrote everything as historically accurate as possible.

If anybody understands why October 14th is significant you get +4 awesome points of History Knowledge.

Also, if anybody is interested in me writing a short timeline of how the story syncs up to WW2 let me know in a review and it will included next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

The English nation knew that there was no way they could win this war alone, the only chance they had was to stay on the defensive and pray to god that Hitler would find somewhere else to bomb. Not that he wished this hell on any of the other nations but England was a tiny country and could only handle so much.

"We need to utilize the early warning technology you mentioned earlier. As far as I know the Germans can't make good use of it yet and we need all the advantages over them that we can get. Another thing of note is that the Germans have mostly short range planes and are staying around the ports mostly. We can use the Hurricanes to shoot them down. We need to get to a point where we can shoot down their planes faster than the bastards can build them and we need to launch another counter attack on Berlin. The most important thing is that England will be completely burnt to the ground before I see anyone in my land where a swastika." Arthur spoke with increasing conviction, slamming his fist on the table.

Hearing his words the entirety of the room went silent in admiration; this man truly was the embodiment of England.

The plan was to start implementing these strategies the following morning and have the Germans out as soon as possible.

Nobody could have predicted the hell they were about to go through though before they could breathe easy.

The raid started at night, like they usually did but the 400 German fighter planes weren't usual and the amount of explosives he heard being dropped and actually struck fear in Arthur down to down to his soul. He could only imagine that the few planes reinforcements they had at the moment could actually do some damage.

Arthur made himself stand up from the crouched position he was in at the raid shelter they had made him evacuate to telling him that aerial battles were not for men like him, besides, they had told him "If they shoot you down, who will lead us to victory?" that had kept him quiet.

He looked out the small window and it was like a lightning storm, he shivered and averted his eyes starting to pace. The sound of bombs always made him nervous; he guessed it was a subconscious reaction to his earlier incident with them. The raids never lasted that long though; he just had to wait it out.

Two hours later he got the report that the BBC Broadcasting House had been hit and that Oxford Street had been shut down with no sign of a retreat in sight. The railways and the roads were all shut down.

"How many have we been able to take down? Do we have any numbers yet?" Arthur asked, hopeful, but doubtful, that his strategy had been put into play yet.

"One sir." Was the terse reply of the soldier.

"One? One what? One group? How many is in a group? One hundred?" Arthur was confused; the Royal Air Force had been doing the best they could so far.

"Well, sir, there were only 41 of us that were ready for combat…we only managed to take one down…"

Arthur said nothing in response; the soldier looked guilty enough as it was and he wasn't about to add to the shame the soldier felt at giving the report.

Then both men landed on their asses as the room shook with the force of a nearby bomb and then there was silence. It wasn't silent outside, no; the sounds of the relentless bombs would be burned in the mind of every citizen of London that night and for the rest of their lives. The silence was inside the raid shelter for the residents of the palace and that silence was louder than the bombs raining down outside because it was the kind of silence that was brought on by fear of the unknown.

The next morning the front page of the New York Times would read "London is rocked by its heaviest raid; buildings leveled, fires started as raid goes on steadily for hours. Death toll is up sharply." The statistics would go on to say that "400 were killed, 900 injured and 600 civilians were trapped in ___Balham Underground Station__._"

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update today, I have classes all day on Thursdays so for future reference Thursdays will be a late day for updates.  
Also, in case anybody cares .com/focus/chat/2607949/posts is the New York Times article I was referencing.


	6. Chapter 6

They were gone by morning and Arthur got the report that London was completely ablaze; 900 plus fires had been reported throughout the course of the night and there weren't enough fire fighters.

After the grim report by the soldiers he rushed outside to survey the damage to the once fair city and his senses were assaulted by the smell of…war. That was the only word that could be used to describe the smell of 900 fires and 400 dead. Hitler was going to pay for this.

Arthurs mind went into strategy mode as he walked along the smoky streets; in an extremely morbid way London was still as beautiful as ever he thought to himself. London, and on a grander scheme England as a nation was going to be the phoenix of this war; let Hitler send his bombs, the English would never surrender.

They hadn't lost, yet, and part of the reason for that was because the Royal Air Force was unmatched in their technology and skill, the other part being that Arthur was an amazing strategist. All they needed was more men and he had already gotten word that the Canadians were willing to help with the Royal Canadian Air Force and that some Americans were even enlisting in the RCAF to come help fight. The free French were willing to fight and so were a smattering of other countries opposed to Nazi Germany.

"If we all worked together we could have a force to be reckoned with…" he mused continuing his miserable stroll through the blazing city.

The raids continued as usual over the course of the next four days with the loss of the radar equipment at Waterloo Station being the only major damage they suffered. England was able to hold its own with the help of their allies and by the end of the week a portion of the Royal Air Force, under Arthurs direct orders were en route to Berlin to make a counter attack and let Hitler know that not only had he not broken their spirits but they were still strong enough to fight back and not only play defense.

Things were working out exactly as Arthur had planned, with the growth in numbers and so many people signing up to fight in the R.A.F., and with the implementation of the radar system they were able to have enough troops to keep the raids on Berlin constant and keep a home defense force. His plan worked so well that by the middle of the month there were reports that Hitler was trying to persuade Spain to join the war and help take down the Brits.

By the end of the month, with Arthurs strategy now fully implemented, and for the first time since July, the Battle of Britain was finally won and the final death count was that 1,733 German planes to 828 of the Royal Air Force.

Arthur knew better than to celebrate though, too many people were dead and too much of his city was destroyed. The battle was won but the war not over, still, the English had proven that they would not cow to Hitler or anyone else.

At the beginning of the new month, it seemed like Hitler's strategy went something like "New month; new strategy" and the reports started to come in that it was now industrial sites and sea ports that were being focused on as opposed to just London.

Arthur did the only thing they really could do; send aid to the cities and as the saying goes 'keep on keeping on.'

Two weeks had passed and things were much the same as ever; death, war, and destruction had become a staple of life for the citizens of England. Hitler's goal was to destroy the morale of the British since he couldn't gain an aerial advantage over them and so far he was failing, Arthur had said it countless times to everyone he met 'We will never bend, we will never break, we will be the beacon of light when everyone else fails around us."

The man in question was in the palace, as he always seemed to be nowadays, telling the troops which way to go, who to send aid to, and receiving reports of new cities and infrastructures that were bombed. He started to idly wonder how Francis was holding up, while looking over the latest edition of an underground newspaper published by the French Resistance.

He may have hated the frog but he worried about him nonetheless, they had known each other for centuries, and they may have had their disagreements in the past but that didn't mean that Arthur liked the idea of France being occupied. He pictured Francis wearing a swastika and shuddered at the thought. Arthur just hoped that Francis would be able to hold on until he could figure out a way to save him.

His thoughts were interrupted as a soldier came into his study, screaming his head off that Coventry Cathedral was under attack. Arthur's eyes narrowed at the words; how dare they destroy a church?

"Do what you can to help the citizens get out safely, send the fire brigade to the church" was his automatic response.

"Sir, Mr. Kirkland, sir, you don't understand; we tried that, sir, but they set fire to almost every street in Coventry. They've even bombed the fire station and the fire brigade can no longer send their men out. The water mains are destroyed in Coventry and there isn't enough water to put out the fires…" the soldier spoke urgently.

Arthur's heart wrenched for his people "Do the most logical thing then you git; send the rescue team from neighboring cities, save as many as you can!" he barked the order and the soldier was gone in an instant.

The next morning it was reported that 600 citizens of Coventry were reported dead and approximately 1,000 more were injured with 4,000 homes destroyed and 3/4th of the city's factory's and businesses were now destroyed. Later the term "Conventrated" would be used as a military term to describe levels of destruction in other towns.

A month would pass and similar reports would start becoming all too familiar, there was a report of Birmingham Cathedral suffering the same sort of fate as Coventry and Arthur started to wonder if it was Hitler's objective to try and kill off God while he was at it.

Up to this point Arthur had merely been dealing with things and reports as they came, he had forces spread out to almost nightly raids in Germany and some scattered forces in Africa and he was getting complacent in his duties and that bothered him. This was war; he wasn't supposed to get complacent damnit; he needed something to do other than give orders and tally up death counts.

Arthur walked down the corridor of the palace and listened to a conversation two soldiers were having about Christmas.

"The Germans didn't stop for Christmas, do you think they'll stop for New Years?" the soldier asked hopelessly.

"Don't be stupid" the other responded "the Germans won't stop till we're all dead."

Opening the door to the main steps of the palace Arthur let out a breath he had no idea he was holding and looked up at the sky for guidance. He wasn't seeking out God, he wasn't praying, he was just…hoping. He was daring to hope that soon this would be over so he could live life again.

Sighing, he went back inside, ready to read more reports and give out more orders, and sign more official orders.

"What time is it?" he asked offhandedly, signing his name to a form.

"Sunday morning, sir; December 29th."

A/N: The next chapter will be one of the last chapters dealing with the events of WW2 because, after all, this is a FRUK story, and not a history lesson and Chapter 8 I will probably be fast forwarding quite a bit to the liberation of Paris so that our two lovers can finally re-unite. I'm sure some of you were wondering when I was going to get to the good part, non?


	7. Chapter 7

The bombs came that night, as usual, and Arthur was feeling restless; he wanted to be out there helping. So maybe he had no idea how to fly fighter jets but he was good at hand to hand combat; he used to have to fight all his battles that way before the invention of guns.

"What happened to good old fashioned sword duels?" he muttered to nobody in particular "Let Hitler come over here with a rapier and we'll see what happens."

It may have been a tad inappropriate to chuckle at the image of Hitler wielding a rapier while London was in a state of emergency but what else was the nation supposed to do while he was practically held prisoner in the palace raid shelter?

They had finally gave him a radio to listen to the reports instead of having to deal directly with frantic soldiers who risked their lives just to tell him that another business was on fire and that the death toll was on the rise. There seemed to be an unusually high amount of reports that the fires tonight were spreading at an alarming pace. The Germans were using the incendiaries and high explosives tonight; pulling out all the stops trying one last time to destroy British morale and it wasn't going to work, damnit; not as long as Arthur was in command.

It was then that the report came that Saint Paul's Cathedral was on fire and Arthur felt sick to his stomach. St. Paul's was one of the most beautiful sites in London and it was impossible to visit the city without stopping at the Cathedral. Arthur had never been a particularly religious man, he didn't go for weekly church services or anything but he would often, as often as time permitted lately, go to the church and marvel at its beauty. St Paul's was more than just a church it had not fallen yet and it seemed to be a beacon of hope in these times and Arthur couldn't stand it if another beauty of London was destroyed in one night.

Arthur was not the only man in London with these thoughts because not moments later the report came that there was a group of firefighters who were braving the raid to stand around the cathedral and put out the flames as soon as they started. There were even reports that there were volunteers, regular citizens who had no business being out in the center of a city while it was on fire, who were coming out to help.

Arthur stood up and marched directly out of the raid shelter, shoving the guard aside and telling another to 'sod off' and headed straight for cathedral; he felt strongly about this and he was going to help, damnit, even if it got him killed.

"Sir! Forgive me, sir but where the bloody hell do you think you're off to in the middle of the firestorm?" a high ranking soldier screamed, catching hold of his arm.

Arthur roughly shrugged the man off him, "I'm going to St Paul's and if you even so much as think of trying to stop me I'll make sure that you're back to basic training so fast—"

The commander saluted Arthur "Sir, please, it would be a great honor if you allowed me to escort you in a military vehicle. You'll never make it there alive from the palace to the cathedral on foot."

Arthur nodded curtly and got in the vehicle finally feeling a thrill of excitement at being able to contribute to the safety of his city.

He saw his city ablaze as he rode towards the cathedral but it wasn't until he got to St Paul's, the highest point in the city, and looked down at the rest of London that made him think back to September of 1666. Suddenly he felt a wave of guilt pour over him as he remembered his words from back then: "London will never burn again while I live."

The citizens he made that promises to were long gone now, but he still feel like he had let his city down…

The commander that drove Arthur shook his hand "Sir, thank you" and there was a glint of moisture in the man's eye.

"What for?" Arthur returned; what could anyone possibly be thanking him for?

"For giving us hope" was all the man said and then drove off back to his station.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Arthur ran over to three citizens who were struggling to lift the heavy fire hose and helped them burden the weight.

"Thanks" the men murmured and wasted no time in shouting an all clear for the water pressure to be released. Arthur couldn't believe the dedication of the Londoners as they surrounded the Cathedral, the entire city was ablaze but the Cathedral would stand that night.

The British nation didn't take control, like he normally would in a military situation; he didn't want any credit for this; he let the citizens shout the orders that night and he followed them. Perhaps he didn't do such a bad job establishing his country after all.

There wasn't much talking that night, it didn't seem right to strike up a conversation in a time like this, the silent resolve of the firefighters and the civilians was louder than any bomb being dropped that night.

Morning came, as it always did, and it wasn't till the morning lights hit their faces that several of the men recognized Arthur and were shocked beyond belief. Important people were supposed to be locked safely in the palace, not out here like everyone else fending for themselves.

Arthur brushed off their concern telling him "This is my city too."

The British Nation talked to every man that was there that night making sure to take down their information, explaining to them that as soon as possible they would all receive recognition from the Crown for outstanding service in a time of war. He was shocked to find that none of the men wanted the recognition and that the fact that the Cathedral stood while the rest of London burned was enough recognition for them.

It wasn't long before the Military Police came looking for him, telling him he needed to come back to the palace and that he was needed there to sign more papers and to help with their next strategy. It was like he was a runaway child being admonished; he was well aware they didn't care about him personally; they just needed someone to play their war games.

He took to his room later that day and skimmed over another copy of a newspaper published by the French Resistance.

"Why do you read that?" a soldier asked him, dropping off some more forms for him to fill out.

"I just want to know that he's ok" was Arthurs unthinking and automatic response.

"'He' sir?" the soldier queried

Arthur blinked "What? I meant to say 'they'; I hope they are ok."

Shrugging, the soldier left, tending to his other daily duties as Arthur sat there furrowing his brows in confusion wondering why he was suddenly so concerned about the Frenchman.

A/N: Next chapter: The Liberation of Paris and our lovers are reunited once more.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been four years; four years since the Battle of Britain and four years since Arthur had had a decent night's sleep.

The eventual threat of Ivan and his troops had made Hitler turn his eye from Britain making things marginally less stressful for the English. War still raged on but through the forging of the Lend-Lease Act with Alfred resources weren't so sparse anymore.

Arthur operated on auto pilot these days and part of it was because he had stopped caring about things, everything really, the 'diplomatic missions' he went on were endless and the other missions he was sent on to capture enemy territory seemed boring; everything was boring.

The nights were the worst, first the loneliness would set in and then when sleep did take him the bombs would come and the fires would rage; not the real bombs, of course, but they were real enough. He would never get more than three-four hours of sleep per night because the sounds of his own screams would be loud enough to wake him, and then he would be covered in sweat and left with the lingering sound of a voice echoing in his mind and the remnants of a smoke filled dream; the voice always said the same thing: "Arthur ****I cannot leave you" there was something that was said in the middle of the sentence but Arthur could never hear what was said. Every night he would swear to himself that he was going to make his dream-self hear the middle of the bloody sentence but he never did and it tortured him.

The people he spent the most time with urged him to seek professional help, suggesting he might be having some symptoms of PTSD but Arthur stubbornly refused to get any kind of treatment so every single night Arthurs bed would be drenched in sweat and every single night the soldiers would cover their ears to keep the sounds of Arthurs screams out of their dreams too.

They couldn't dismiss him from his duties, after all they did still need him and his mental state had not affected his judgment in battle in any way or any of his other decisions. Some suspected that somehow his brain had spilt into two parts, one dealing with the ongoing war and the other constantly in a state that was somewhere between crippling depression and paranoia.

This attitude had become the norm for some time now and so when Arthur was handed an American newspaper entitled Stars and Stripes that read "PARIS IS FREE AGAIN" in all capitals it surprised everyone when he announced that he would be leaving for Paris later that night. Nobody attempted to stop him knowing full well that if Arthur was going to Paris that night then they would be able to get a peaceful nights rest.

Nobody attempted to stop him, but that didn't mean he wasn't questioned.

"Why are you going to waste your time with those surrender monkeys?" one of the ranking officers asked him, obviously disgusted by the British Nations choice of night time entertainment.

"France is an old friend, and an Ally after all, I merely want to congratulate him on a job well done." Arthur replied matter of factly.

The officer snorted in derision "Congratulations would be in order; if the French had had any part in their own liberation. Bloody drunks. Paris is going to be filled to the brim tonight with those damn Americans and filthy women."

Arthur ignored the idiot; the man obviously hadn't been reading the underground newspapers. Sure, Alfred had a role to play in the liberation of Paris but that didn't mean the French sat there and let the Americans do all the work.

"Why do you care anyways?" the officer went on "There was a time when you would have clapped my back at that and we would have laughed about it later at the pub."

Arthur shrugged, the man had a point but lately he couldn't find it in him to hate Francis as much as he used to, at least not while there was a real threat to the man. Of course, if later, Francis were to ask him if he had been worried about him the Englishman was going to vehemently deny it.

The train ride to Paris took around 4 hours and Arthur managed to get himself in a state of utter distress by the time the train arrived at the station. What if Francis wouldn't want him there? Why would they want an Englishman there other than to poke fun at? What if Francis was angry at him for not being more help over the past four years?

"Bloody hell; look at me, fussing over a frogs feelings. Maybe the men were right, maybe I do need some help" he nervously assured himself.

Arthur was no stranger to France and it didn't take him long to find lodging for the evening and it took even less time for him to find out the whereabouts of the party that was being held in honor of the brave French and American soldiers.

The smell of French food mixed with alcohol and sweat assaulted his senses as he entered the club that night. From the doorway he looked around and after seeing the scantily clad women making love to the stage pole he knew that up front was where the man would be.

******Meanwhile******

"Come on dude, look at these women! You totally need to take one home with you!" Alfred laughed his boisterous laugh trying to encourage the Frenchman to have a good time.

Said Frenchman was sitting in the front row, of course, and the women were throwing all sorts of suggestive looks in his direction but Francis hardly noticed; he was slouched over in the red velvet love seat and nobody would have known that Paris had just been liberated by looking at him.

"Francis." America said in an uncharacteristically solemn tone, putting a hand on his shoulder "He's not coming and it's been what like five years since you've been together? You know Arthur lost his memory of your time together; don't you think it's time to move on?"

"Vous comprendrez un jour, Alfred" Francis responded with a heavy heart and finished off the wine he had been nursing all evening.

The club wasn't so much large as it was crowded and Arthur was never a very sociable person to begin with; he loathed parties like this and desperately wanted the French waitresses to put on some clothes.

"Really? A French maid outfit?" he muttered to himself in disgust "Very original."

The more he looked around and the longer it took him to find Francis, the less he wanted to be here. The frog would be speaking in frog-speak to his fellow frogs and they wouldn't want Arthur to ruin their party. Maybe it would be better to go back to the hotel and phone Francis in the morning; it certainly would be easier.

"Right then, I'll worry about the frog in the morning" he resolved, turning around abruptly and falling over from the force of the man he bumped into.

"Iggy?"

Arthur looked up in pure disgust from the rudeness of the man who had just spilt beer all over his jacket.

"Wait. Alfred? You yank; don't the people in your country have any manners? Help me up you idiot." Arthur spat out in typical spastic fashion.

"Dude! This is perfect! Ole Frenchy will be thrilled that you showed up to his shin dig! Come on!" the American practically gushed, pulling Arthur up with one hand.

"Wait just a minute here, wanker! My jacket is completely ruined; look you spilled your disgusting beer all over it." The British Nation seethed.

"Hey man, calm down; just take off your jacket. See? It didn't even touch your perfectly pressed white shirt" the younger nation reasoned as Arthur folded his beer-soaked jacket neatly over his arm.

"I just wanted to congratulate the frog on a victory is all" Arthur unnecessarily explained himself "I can't seem to fight my way over to the front."

"No prob!" America beamed, grabbing Arthur by the arm and pushing his way through the crowd.

"Yo! Francis!" Alfred called out as soon as they were in ear shot of Francis "I brought you a present!"

Arthur fumed and pulled away from his former colony "I'm not a gift you damn wanker!"

At the sound of an unmistakable British accent Francis turned his head and when he saw Arthur he immediately got out of his seat

"Arthur? Êtes-vous vraiment ici?"

A/N: Go ahead, say it, people who use cliff hangers are jerks. I know, I know. Don't worry though, Ch.9 will be up later today since I'm a slacker and missed yesterday.

Translations:

Vous comprendrez un jour, Alfred-"You will understand one day, Alfred."

Arthur? Êtes-vous vraiment ici? - "Arthur? Are you really here?"


	9. Chapter 9

The English nation smoothed his jacket and stood a little straighter upon the approach of the Frenchman.

"I'm terribly sorry for not being around more often but I was able to make it over here to congratulate you on a well-deserved victory…frog" the last part he added for show, he really was happy to see his old friend hale and whole.

Francis pulled Arthur into an embrace "Je vous ai manqué."

Arthur pushed Francis away, blushing a bit "No need to get all sentimental on me, I just came to wish you congratulations, and now I have and I think I'll be going back to my hotel now."

"You must stay, mon ami, can't you see there is a party here? You don't want everyone to know that you really are such a stick in the mud do you?"

It was easy for Francis to fall back into their normal banter, at least outwardly. Inwardly he was resolving to keep Arthur with him as long as humanly possible. There were a slew of things that he wanted to say and do to the Englishman but he knew that now was not the time, he had waited this many years for his time with Arthur, he could wait a few more hours.

"How can you watch this filth?" Arthur cut through Francis' train of thought, gesturing towards the women on stage.

"Live a little" Francis responded, gesturing for Arthur to sit down. Arthur took a seat, but made a show of sitting to the side so he wasn't facing the women.

"One would think that you do not appreciate the beautiful form of a woman, Arthur, you make such a point in not looking at them." Francis smirked, goading the nation.

"What are you suggesting, frog?" Arthur yelled, turning a beautiful shade of red.

"Nothing, cher ami" he responded, sitting down a little too close to the Englishman and draping an arm over the backside.

One of the waitresses arrived with an ale and a glass of champagne, both drinks with a mini American flag sticking out of them.

"Courtoisie de M. Jones" the waitress spoke seductively, leaning over as far as possible to hand Francis his drink.

"Merci beaucoup. At-on jamais vous dit que vous êtes belle?" the Frenchman took his drink and kissed the woman's hand.

The 'French maid' giggled and flounced off.

Arthur rolled his eyes and took the American flag out of his drink "Alfred, here, take your damn flag ba—where did he go?"

Francis shrugged "Looks like it is just you and me for the rest of the night."

Arthur took a large gulp of his ale, and then he ordered another and another and somehow during the course of evening he agreed to let Francis help him up to his hotel room.

The temptation for Francis to take advantage of Arthur in this state was definitely testing his will, after all, it wouldn't really be taking advantage of him; they had been lovers many times before.

"Arthur, I missed you"

"Don't think just because I'm a tad sauced it means I'll let you spout your horrendous poetry in hopes of getting into my pants" the British man spoke in tone that didn't have quite the amount of anger in it he imagined it did.

"I hardly think telling you I missed you counts as poetry, here's let's get you on the bed before you fall over."

"Why would you even tell me such a thing you idiot?" he grabbed Francis by the collar in a mock display of anger and stumbled over the bed, not being sober enough to let go of Francis he unwittingly pulled the man on top of him.

Francis felt a twinge of pain in his heart remembering all the times that Arthur was beneath him before, he also felt a twinge elsewhere looking down at the mans flushed face and imagining that it was from him and not the alcohol, but he ignored it, moving to get off of the Englishman.

"I know that scent…" Arthur started to say "I know I've smelled it before…what is it?"

"My cologne?" Francis wondered how it was that Arthur recognized the scent of his cologne. Arthur had given the cologne to him as a gift long ago explaining to him that it was 'to keep him from smelling so much like a frog.' It was expensive and despite the words that came with the gift, it showed that Arthur cared for him a great deal, so Francis resolved to only wear the cologne on special occasions, or when he was around Arthur; since he had had no special occasions and hadn't seen Arthur in nearly five years, the cologne didn't get much use.

"Arthur? How do you know this scent?" he asked hopefully, were there parts of their time together Arthur remembered?

"Hmm?" Arthur asked groggily "Oh…It's the scent of a rose" he slurred drunkenly and then Francis heard the distinct sound of snoring.

Francis cocked an eyebrow wondering what the hell the man was going on about. He made sure to tuck Arthur into the bed and got in besides him, there was zero chance that he was going to let Arthur leave without an explanation and he knew that if he didn't stay, the British Nation would try to leave without so much as speaking to him.

"Bonne nuit, Arthur, je t'aime" Francis whispered, kissing Arthurs forehead lightly.

A blood curdling scream woke Francis sharply from his dreams making his eyes fly open in panic. Taking a quick scan of the room, he noticed nothing had changed and that his shirt was moist. Why was his shirt wet? Apparently, in his sleep he had turned to his side and was spooning his former lover. Arthur's sleeping body had responded to him and had scooted closer. A closer inspection of Arthur saw that Arthur's tank top was drenched in sweat and then another anguished scream tore through the room.

Francis' heart broke at the sight of the proud nation lying in bed screaming from nightmares. "Qu'avez-vous vu?" he asked softly, brushing the wet strands of hair from his face. He wasn't sure what to do; if he woke Arthur up the man would probably be sober by now and would kick him out for sure. Of course he couldn't just lay there and let the man scream all night long.

As gently as he could, without waking the man up he pulled the mans soaked t shirt off him and tossed it on the floor, removing his own as well, no sense in waking up in a disgustingly soaked t-shirt.

"Viens ici, mon amour" he whispered lovingly, laying on his back and very gently, lovingly, shifting Arthur so the Brits head was on his chest. "Plus de rêves mauvais, d'accord?" he whispered, wrapping his arm around Arthur.

Francis knew that when Arthur woke up and saw the state they were in he would throw a fit, but for now, he was going to pretend like everything was back to normal.

A/N: Sorry, I'm late (again) but dear god my head is in pain.

Translations:

Je vous ai manqué- I've missed you.

Courtoisie de M. Jones- Courtesy of Mr. Jones

Merci beaucoup. At-on jamais vous dit que vous êtes belle? - Thank you very much. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?

Qu'avez-vous vu?-What have you seen?

Viens ici, mon amour-Come here, my love.

"Plus de rêves mauvais, d'accord? - No more bad dreams, alright?

Additionally, I've said this before, but since there was a lot of French in this chapter I'm going to apologize again if it's god awful. I'm literally only using Google Translate, so you can blame Google.


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of the night went without incident and Arthurs fire and brimstone dreams faded into nothingness, allowing him to get a full nights rest; something he desperately needed. Arthur woke first, as was usual, and was slightly alarmed to find that somehow during the night his shirt was removed. He didn't have a hangover, which was odd considering he normally had one anytime the words 'party' and 'Francis' were involved. If he wasn't hung-over then why the hell was his shirt off and dear god why did it take his train of thought this long to realize that he had been sleeping on the older nation's chest?

Arthur needed to assess the situation calmly before he started screaming and shoving because if he didn't then the frog would wake up, and then he'd have to talk to the frog. Or maybe that was just what Arthur told himself to give himself some more time in the man's arms. It was odd though, his natural reaction would normally be to punch Francis in the face for molesting him in his sleep but sleeping on top of the man seemed…natural, normal ;he couldn't think of any other word to describe it. The feeling of crippling loneliness didn't seem to bother him either. Maybe it would be ok if he stayed like this a few moments longer… the sound if snoring soon followed.

Francis' eyes fluttered open and he was momentarily confused at the body contact next to him, and then he looked over and saw Arthur asleep, a frown on his face even in sleep. Francis let out a sigh of relief, so Arthur hadn't left yet. He wondered at the time, it had to be early if he woke up before the strict-scheduled blonde. 'Almost 10am?' he thought to himself 'Arthur has never slept this late in his life…wait a second, I woke up before England? Ha!' he grinned broadly, resisting the urge to laugh aloud. Reaching over and picking up the phone, Francis ordered breakfast to be delivered to the room; he was going to keep Arthur with him as long as humanely possible. It didn't matter that the war was still going on; all that mattered was the man lying sleeping peacefully on top of him.

Turning his head he kissed Arthur on his head lightly "You can't sleep the entire day away; at some point you have to make a contribution to the world." Francis teased, using the arm he already had around Arthur to pull him tighter to his chest.

"…I don't have to contribute to anything, frog" came the mumbled reply of the blonde, who childishly buried his head into Francis's chest.

"Êtes-vous toujours cette affection dans la matinée?" he smirked.

Arthur scowled "Don't get excited, frog, I just don't feel like moving at the moment…"

"And why would you want to move when you have such a beautiful man beneath you?"

Arthurs scowl deepened and he moved to get up "Where have you put my shirt, you rapist? I can only assume you ripped it off me while I was sleeping so you could ogle me."

"I did not rape you, you overly dramatic rosbif" came the faux offended response.

Getting out of the bed, Arthur leaned over to pick up his discarded t-shirt and he visibly paled when he saw the sweat stains.

"Did I wake you last night?" the Englishman could barely get the words out he was so horrified. Please, if there was a God; let it have made Arthur not have woken Francis last night with his screams.

Arthur heard the sound of the shower starting and breathed a sigh of relief; the Frenchman was oblivious as always and there was no way he had heard Arthur last night. How did his shirt get on the floor though? Magic. It was magic. There was absolutely no way in hell that Francis heard him screaming and that's all there was to it.

"Arthur" Francis called from the shower "If somebody knocks on the door it's just the room service I ordered."

"You ordered room service? I'm not some French tart that you're trying to seduce!" Arthur yelled back.

"No. You're so much more…" the naked Frenchman said quietly to himself.

The breakfast came and a short while later and Arthur yelled for Francis to get out of the shower, along with some comment about how only girls take that long to shower.

"How would you know?" came the quick reply "I thought we concluded last night that you were disgusted by women, so I know there's no way you would ever have one in your shower."

Turning about five shades of red Arthur admonished the Frenchman "Why are you so damn interested in my sexual preference you frog? I don't go around asking you who you take to your bed do I? No, of course I don't because it's just bloody rude!" the British man huffed and began to prepare his breakfast from the little cart that was brought in.

Wearing nothing but a towel , Francis sat next to the Englishman on the bed and smirked that smirk of his that Arthur found completely alluring, but would never admit to in a hundred years "Arthur, if you were to ask me who I take to bed you would be rather surprised, mon ami."

Arthur sighed and started to rub his temples "Please Francis, please for the love of… can you put some clothes on? It's already terrible enough that I have to spend the morning with you, let's try to make the most of our time together, shall we?"

"I understand if it is difficult for you to resist this body, many other have fallen helpless against my beauty" Francis responded, putting his hand on Arthur's hand.

Pulling his hand away immediately and moving to the far end of the bed Arthur ignored the smiling blonde throughout the rest of the meal.

"Rester." Francis said suddenly realizing that after breakfast, Arthur would want to leave as soon as possible.

"You know I don't speak your silly language" Arthur responded.

"Stay." Francis repeated seriously, this time in english.

""What are you going on about? The war isn't over for all of us, you know." Arthur looked away so as to avoid the Frenchman's gaze, there was no way he was going to let Francis see him blushing. He wasn't completely lying; he did actually have duties to tend to back on the war front even though the tasks had become so mundane and boring he wanted to shoot himself frequently.

"What did you mean last night about the scent of a rose?" Francis had gotten eerily serious and it was starting to freak out the British Nation a little bit.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Arthur honestly had no idea had gotten into his friend.

"Last night, right before you passed out, I was helping you into bed and you smelled my cologne and seemed to recognize the smell from somewhere; I asked you why it was that you remembered the smell and you said it was 'the scent of a rose'. What does that mean, Arthur?"

Arthur concentrated, trying to recall the conversation but he had no idea what the man was going on about. Suddenly Francis leaned over and picked up his jacket that had been lying on the floor the entire time.

"Smell this" he held the jacket up for Arthur to take "It should still have the scent from my cologne."

Arthur took the jacket, thinking Francis was out of his mind and took in the fragrance of Francis' cologne. The scent made Arthurs eyes fly open in recognition; "The scent of a rose. I remember it because it was one of the first scents, that wasn't hospital, that I first smelled upon receiving the news I had lost my memory. There was a rose that was left in my jacket and it smelled…just like this." Arthur went silent as the realization hit him. "…but I don't remember you putting that there…"

"I came in later, while you were sleeping to say goodbye to you, and I put the rose in your jacket hoping that it might spark your memory." Francis' voice was tight like he was trying to suppress something; he hung his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes to hide his expression.

"What do you mean?" Arthur whispered, almost afraid of the response he was going to get. "What did you want me to remember?"

"Que je t'aime" Francis responded, turning to face Arthur.

A/N: Dun dun dun!

Translations:

Êtes-vous toujours cette affection dans la matinée? - Are you always this affectionate in the mornings?

Que je t'aime- That I love you.


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur sputtered "D...don't be ridiculous frog; we all know it's impossible for you to actually love any one person at a time. What time is it? Oh look at the time; I have to be leaving now." It would be just like Francis to try and manipulate his feelings like this; not that he actually had any feelings.

"Ah, Arthur, how can you be so brave in a time of war but so cowardly when it comes to love? "

Arthur's heart pounded in his chest, he hadn't expected this at all; sure Francis would make passes at him and he was being frighteningly serious at the moment but there was no chance that he was serious about loving him. He may have feelings for the lecherous Frenchman, but he was sure that the man acted this way around everyone he met; getting people to fall in love with him was just part of the man's game.

Moving so that he was sitting next to Arthur, Francis' heart was twisting painfully. Arthur's silence frightened Francis more than if he had outright rejected him; he was used to Arthur's outbursts, it would have been easy to brush that off, but this silent Arthur made him nervous.

"S'il vous plaît, pour l'amour de Dieu, dire quelque chose" he whispered, taking Arthurs clenched fist and smoothing it out so he could take his hand into his.

Arthur took a breath and looked Francis in the face, preparing to tell him that he was insane and to direct him to where exactly he could go, but the pools of crystal blue stopped him in his tracks. Arthur knew that he was losing this battle quickly; he expected to see laughter in the man's eyes, he expected to see mocking in the man's eyes, he never expected to see the truth.

"Francis…" Arthur trailed off "…I'm…" he struggled to find the words he wanted but his head and his heart were fighting furiously each other; an infamous battle between logic and love. "I'm not right for you at all, I have routines I like to follow, you know, and I'm…" Arthur was annoyed to no end, since when was he; the embodiment of an Englishman, at a loss for words. Why the hell was it so hard to tell Francis to sod off?

"You're right, you are a little too high maintenance for me, here I was spending all this energy trying to get you back when I should be celebrating my freedom" Francis' eyes gleamed, taking pleasure in teasing Arthur.

"High maintenance? Forgive me for being organized and liking things to be in order!" Arthur exploded, pulling his hand away from Francis and sitting up a little straighter, turning to face away from the irritable man, almost to add emphasis to his statement.

"Il fut un temps où vous avez utilisé pour moi dire que tu m'as aimé" Francis whispered, feeling like this conversation was going nowhere.

"I have a difficult time believing that" Arthur retorted "Are you trying to suggest that we were…together?"

"Je ne suggère pas n'importe quoi, I'm telling you the truth. The year that you lost was the happiest time of my life. Arthur, you may have forgotten but I know your heart did not forget me; doesn't your heart skip a beat when I touch you? Haven't you been lonely these past few years?"

Arthur thought back to earlier in the morning, it didn't seem so out of place to wake up in Francis' arms, it felt nice, it felt amazing actually, and he _had_ been unusually lonely as of late but that didn't prove anything about the time he lost; just because he felt happy at waking up with somebody didn't mean that they were supposed to be together or anything else ridiculous. "Look, frog, you're giving me a headache, if I had known you were going to go all sentimental on me I would have left sooner, my being lonely, which I'm not, doesn't have the slightest thing to do with my memory being gone. The only reason you're doing this is so that later you can laugh at me and tell me how silly I was for believing you. If you think I would believe you just because you bat your eyes and put on that depressing show of yours then you're wrong. I simply won't believe another word out of your mouth until you show me some bloody proof, and for the last time, Francis, at least put some pants on!"

Arthurs words stung "Croyez-vous vraiment je me couchais sur quelque chose comme ça? Do you really think I'm playing a game with you, Arthur?"

"Aren't you?" the stubborn man replied

"Que pensez-vous?" Francis replied softly, moving closer to Arthur so that now Arthur was essentially trapped between the headboard and Francis.

"I..don't have any damn idea what you're up to" Arthur retorted quickly, turning, finally, to look at Francis.

Francis took his window of opportunity and pressed his lips lightly to Arthur's; Arthur wanted proof and the only proof that Francis had with him at the moment was himself and he was going to prove to Arthur that he loved him before the man left come hell or high water.

Arthur's resolve melted away almost instantaneously and his eyes slowly closed, letting himself be kissed but not kissing back quite yet.

Francis smiled into the kiss, knowing that time doesn't change anything; he could always get Arthur to shut up this way. The suave Frenchman moved his hand up Arthurs chest and around to the back of his head, gently pulling him deeper into the kiss.

Conceding defeat, for now at least, Arthur returned the kiss with passion.

A/N:

Translations:

S'il vous plaît, pour l'amour de Dieu, dire quelque chose-Please, for the love of God, say something.

Il fut un temps où vous avez utilisé pour moi dire que tu m'as aimé-There was a time when you used to tell me you loved me.

Je ne suggère pas n'importe quoi-I'm not suggesting anything

Croyez-vous vraiment je me couchais sur quelque chose comme ça?-Do you really believe I would lie over something like this?

Que pensez-vous?-What do you think?


	12. Chapter 12

Francis had pulled away first so that he could get a glimpse of the jade eyes he was so fond of. He knew from experience that he had about 45 seconds to a minute to say whatever he wanted to Arthur before the British nations brain functions started to work again.

"So, does this mean that you're staying another night?"

"I suppose it would be… rude of me to leave so abruptly, I did come all the way here…" the British nation made a poor attempt at justifying things.

With his brain functioning again, Arthur blushed furiously as if he had just gotten caught doing something wrong "You know, just because I momentarily had a lapse in judgment doesn't mean that you're off the hook, you lecher, I still want some solid evidence."

Francis laughed "Arthur, you are as stubborn as ever, et c'est pourquoi je t'aime"

"I'm going to have to find a new nickname for you" Arthur said seriously "I kissed you; but you're still a frog."

Francis grinned "Why, Arthur, mon amour, was that your attempt at a joke? Maybe some magic was worked after all, non?"

Frowning, Arthur pushed the man off of him and started to the bathroom "I'm getting a shower, do you think you can behave for 20 minutes?"

The Frenchman turned thoughtful "Hmm, I do not know, maybe I should come shower with you so you can keep an eye on me." The sound of a door slamming promptly followed.

Standing under the hot shower Arthur finally allowed himself a content smile. He wasn't sure what he expected when he came to Paris, he only came to congratulate Francis, right? 'Give it up, you stubborn old man' his heart told him 'you came here because you couldn't bear to be without him any longer.' Obstinately refusing to believe that he had been harboring such disgustingly romantic feeling for over four years he rubbed the shampoo into his scalp a little harder than necessary as if the motion would silence his thoughts.

Arthur emerged a short time later towel drying his hair and Francis shook his head "You know, the reason your hair isn't as beautiful as my own is because you do things like this. It really stresses you hair when you do that."

Arthur rubbed his hair dry a little more vigorously for emphasis and folded the towel neatly "You know, Francis, maybe the reason my hair isn't as beautiful as yours is because I don't want to be mistaken for the female in this relationship."

"You _are_ the female in this relationship" Francis muttered under his breath.

"What was that, frog?"

"I only said that I know how to give you your proof, I have it at my house."

Arthur stopped in his tracks; he didn't think that Francis actually had proof. Could it really be so easy? Had the key to his past been here this entire time? What was going to happen if he remembered? Would his entire life change? His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of lips pressed onto the back of his neck.

"Let's take it one step at a time, cher; why don't we go check out first." Francis didn't like to see usually confident man so worried. He was worried enough for the both of them, what if what he had didn't make Arthur remember? What if Arthur never remembered; the doctors did say that was a possibility…

The two nations checked out of the hotel and took a cab to Francis' house; the journey had been uneventful with both countries worrying over the notion that in a few short minutes Arthur could have his memory back.

After a brief spat over who was going to pay for the taxi, in which Arthur insisted that he wasn't helpless and Francis insisting that Arthur was a guest and should therefore not have to pay, the couple stood outside the house while Arthur admired the architecture.

The house was Victorian in style, a personal favorite of Arthurs, and the small garden in the front had a beautiful structure of vines that ran along the frame of the forest green front door; a stark contrast to the white of the house.

Francis unlocked the door and took a deep breath before taking Arthurs hand in his and pulling the man inside.

The interior of the large house was flawless as if nobody had lived in it for years and in truth nobody had. The Frenchman went around opening the shades that had been pulled down long ago and a layer of dust flew from the motion. The sunlight poured over the room showing just how long it had been since someone had dusted anything.

Arthur walked slowly and deliberately into the sitting room where a large bookshelf spread across the expanse of the back wall. The shelf was lined with classics, ranging from Chaucer to Shakespeare and they all seemed to have been read many times before. There seemed to be books on almost every subject too, there was an entire section of history books on the histories of the Houses of Hanover and Windsor, there was also a good sized collection of books on domestic matters such as embroidery and gardening.

Francis watched with mixed emotions as Arthur picked up the copy of A Midsummers Night's Dream and clutched it to his chest.

"Just because it's not one of his love stories doesn't mean it wasn't a classic" Arthur spoke softly to himself.

"Qu'est-ce que tu racontes?" Francis asked moving to stand next to Arthur, curious as to what the English nation was going on about.

Dropping the book he was holding Arthur clutched his head as if he was in pain "Fuck" he swore "What the hell was that?"

Putting his arm around the Englishman Francis helped him to the day sofa that seemed to be conveniently placed near the window for the best reading light. "Arthur, ce qui ne va pas?"

"My head hurts enough, don't make me have to go over there and search for a French to English dictionary" he retorted.

"There are several over there in case you wanted one" the Frenchman grinned.

"But why?" Arthur's brow was furrowed in confusion "Why do you have books on the British Monarchy, why are there books on rose gardens and why did I see that?"

"Qu'avez-vous vu?" the French nation resisted the urge to grab Arthur and shake it out of him.

"I think it was a memory. It's hard to tell, it was only there for a moment; it was almost like a movie playing in my head. I know how insane that sounds…Tell me, frog, have I been in this room before?"

"Yes." Francis breathed "Yes. So many times, mon amour. Is that what you saw?"

"No. Well, yes; you were there as well. I was reading that book, and you came up behind me and plucked the book from my hands, kissing me on the neck." Arthur blushed, embarrassed to relay the romantic image. "Did…did that happen?"

Wrapping Arthur in an embrace Francis kissed the top of his head "Yes, mon amour. Arthur, it's working! I knew this would help you. "What else do you remember?"

"Nothing specifically, but everything seems so familiar here. Francis, why has nothing been touched in this house in some time? What is my connection to this house?"

Francis sighed "This is our house and we were very happy here once. When you lost your memory I couldn't return here; there are so many memories that we made over the course of the year that it became impossible to live here without you."

"Our house…" Arthur looked around like he was seeing the house in a completely different light. All it once it was someone pushed the 'play' button on a movie that had been permanently on pause. Images swirled in his mind and his head felt like it was going to explode from the sheer flooding of information and then Arthur went limp.

"Arthur?" Francis called, shaking the Brit "Êtes-vous d'accord?" Noticing his love was merely unconscious and not harmed in any way he got up so he could lay the man across the sofa. "Je serai juste ici quand vous vous réveillez" he whispered softly, saying a silent prayer to God that Arthur would remember everything when he woke up.

Right around the time that Francis was about to pull his hair out from the stress and waiting Arthur groaned in protest "Bloody hell, was I unconscious?"

"Arthur, mon amour, you are awake finally! You passed out like a little girl; luckily I was there to save you."

"Francis?" Arthur's brain was fuzzy at the moment and he made an attempt to sit up to get a better hold of his surroundings but Francis gently pushed him back down.

The French nation's stomach twisted painfully, "Arthur, what do you remember?"

Arthur was silent for a moment, waiting for the haze to go away and then clear jade eyes met blue "Everything."

A/N: It literally took me all weekend to write this. I knew exactly what I wanted to say, and had this beautiful imagery in my head but could not transpose it for the life of me.

Translations:

…et c'est pourquoi je t'aime-…and that is why I love you.

"Qu'est-ce que tu racontes? - What are you talking about?

Arthur, ce qui ne va pas?-Arthur, what's wrong?

Qu'avez-vous vu? - What did you see?

Êtes-vous d'accord?- Are you ok?

Je serai juste ici quand vous vous réveillez-I'll be right here when you wake.


	13. Chapter 13

Francis had thought about what he would say the day Arthur regained his memory for almost five years now, he had thought out elaborate poetry and he had thought out a simple 'I love you' but not once in all that time did he think that when the time came he would remain speechless. The way Arthur was looking at him; like he had found something precious that had been previously lost, completely stole the country of loves breath away.

Without saying a word Arthur grabbed Francis by the collar and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss was passionate, much more intense than their kiss from the morning, and Francis let Arthur take the lead; allowing him to release everything that had been buried for so long.

Pulling away Arthur was suddenly angry "Why did you wait for me all this time you idiot? I wouldn't have blamed you; you could have moved on and had a life by now."

"Arthur, look at this house; you are my life." Francis said nothing about the tear that threatening to fall from Arthur's eye, kissing the man tenderly on his jawline.

"There's no need to act so sentimental, you git, I was only curious is all." Arthur wasn't sure how to handle the flooding of emotions that came with the return of his memory; he had never been good with emotions and he certainly wasn't good when they came en masse. His fight or flight response was kicking in and he couldn't decide if he wanted to go lock himself in his room for several hours while he sorted through his thoughts or if he wanted to continue to stay wrapped in the Frenchman's arms for the rest of eternity.

Francis saw the look of frustration and indecision and his loves face and pulled him into a standing position "Why don't we clean up a bit? Although since it is your fault that this house is so dirty I think you should do most of the cleaning; I would love to see you in a maid outfit…"

"Do you think that just because I have my memory back I would want to parade about the house half naked so you can get a thrill."

Despite his faux rage Arthur smiled as he got out the cleaning supplies; smiling at both Francis' antics as well as the fact that he knew where to find the cleaning supplies, when earlier this morning the same could not have been said.

The house was large and Arthur had a hard time getting anything done because everywhere he would go to dust or polish he would conjure up some happy memory. Francis would often peak in from another room to watch Arthur pick up various items and look at them with nostalgia; it made him happy to see Arthur so content, though the Englishman would never admit to it.

Arthur took joy in cleaning the dining room because it was one of the places that he loved the most about this house. When they had been picking out furniture for the dining room they had fought over the choice of table; Arthur wanted a smaller, more intimate, table for just the two of them; it was the most practical choice. Francis argued that they needed a much larger table in case they had guests over and for the simple fact that a large table would give them more room to make love on. The British Nation had argued that there was no way in hell he would ever end up on his back in the middle of the dining room table but when the time came for Francis to prove him wrong, he didn't put up too much of a fight and he later conceded that getting a larger table was a good idea after all.

They went through the house like this for most of the day until Francis left to get just enough groceries for dinner that night. Arthur had argued that there was no point running off to the store to buy fresh ingredients since he would be leaving in the morning and that they could just go to the café on the corner and have a quick bite.

Francis had been insistent, asking Arthur if he actually had regained his memory because if he truly had, he should have known that he was going to cook dinner for him. Arthur had conceded, rolling his eyes and went back to cleaning.

The dinner had been lovely, just like Arthur knew it was going to be, just like it was every night that Francis cooked for him.

They pair had resolved to tackle the task of cleaning the bedroom together even though they both secretly knew that very little cleaning was going to happen.

"This is my favorite room." Arthur said quietly to himself upon entering the master bedroom with Francis.

"Why?"

"You know why" was the quiet response.

Francis pinned Arthur against the wall with a sudden kiss "Is it because of how many times I made love to you on that bed, against this wall, against the dresser, in the bathroom, in the shower, on the fl—"

"Nothing like that you pervert!" Arthur cut him off, blushing furiously "And you don't have to make it sound like you're doing all the work you wanker, It's not like I just lie there and take it…" Arthur turned even redder if that was humanly possible.

"Non? If that is not what you mean then I can't think of any other reason why you choose this as your favorite room. And just to let you know, Arthur, there is no shame in being on the bottom; you just weren't made to be on the top." The Frenchman's grin was dazzlingly beautiful and it made Arthur want to punch Francis in the face.

"That's not true you wanker, I could top if I wanted to, I am the British Empire after all…" seeing the doubtful look Francis was giving him he rolled his eyes "What I was attempting to say before was that the reason I love this room the most is because this is where we confessed our love to each other" Arthurs voice dwindled in volume as he spoke the sentence with the last part being barely audible.

Francis' eyes lit up and he swung Arthur around affectionately "I knew there was a romantic in you somewhere! I think I have finally found it!"

Both men looked into each other's eyes as they recalled that night; it hadn't been planned in advance; there was no fanfare, no romantic dinner; there had only been passion. They had ended up like they always did at the end of the night; sweaty and entangled together so that they didn't even know whose limbs were whose anymore.

Arthur always looked forward to the time they spent together after sex; it was the time that they shared their hopes for their countries and their hopes for each other. Francis cherished that time as well; it was the only time where Arthur let his guard completely down and he would tell Francis all the things he couldn't during the day.

Arthur had been the one to say it first "I love you, you know."

Sighing contentedly Francis kissed Arthur lightly but with intent "Je sais. Je vous aime trop, vous le savez."

There hadn't been a celebration and there hadn't been any happy tears shed, they were merely saying out loud what they had felt all along; it was just a natural progression.

Coming back to reality they both had the same thought groping senselessly for each other and falling back on to the large bed, all thoughts of cleaning anything forgotten.

A shiver ran through Francis' body; he had missed what it felt like to have this beautiful man beneath him, he had forgotten the feeling of power he got when he had Arthur like this; ready and willing.

It wasn't that Arthur liked being dominated, it wasn't that he could be considered submissive, it was the fact that all he did all day long, every day, and for the past few years was be in control. From the time he woke up to the time he went to bed he was giving out orders; dispersing troops and making battle strategies, trying to out maneuver Germany. So, it wasn't that he was naturally submissive; no, that wasn't in the man's personality, it was that at the end of the day it felt nice to have someone hold him.

"I love you, you know" Arthur spoke, recreating past events and undressing the French Nation.

"Je sais" was the response he received while Francis tossed the mans jacket to the corner.

"You know," Arthur managed between gasps of pleasure at feeling his lover's hands over his bare chest "we're out of lube."

"Arthur, mon amour, you are silly to think I would go to the store and forget to pick up such an essential ingredient for tonight."

Francis' shirt and jacket found themselves on the floor and Arthur smirked that sexy little smirk Francis loved on him "So, you were just expecting me to give into you that easily? I should leave right now just to spite you."

"Ah, but you won't mon petit jouet de sexe; you want to feel me inside you just as badly as I do. Now, lift up so I can take these pants off you."

Arthur did as he was instructed and soon both men were free of their clothes and the games could begin.

Hearing the lid of the lube being opened triggered an animalistic reaction in Arthur and his penis went fully erect in anticipation, something Francis didn't let go unnoticed.

"You are eager tonight aren't you? Don't worry though I will make sure to be gentle with you, as always."

"Maybe I don't want you to be gentle with me" came the sly response.

Francis' suggestive smirk was the only warning he got before he felt the man's fingers inside of him, stretching him; preparing him for the main event.

Leaning down to kiss the British Nation on the nape of the neck Francis shook his head in amusement and then whispered in the man's ear "Don't worry, Arthur, I was lying about being gentle."

Francis took pleasure in watching the shiver run over his lover's body, he also took pleasure in watching the man's eyes roll into the back of his skull as he kissed his way down the muscled chest of the British Nation and took all of Arthur in his mouth when he reached his cock.

Arthur could barely form the words that came out of his mouth "Are you trying to kill me? If you—dear god—if you keep that up…"

Francis' command was sharp "Obtenez sur vos genoux; if you want it that badly you're going to have to work for it."

They didn't usually play these kind of games but Arthur was intrigued and he certainly wasn't about to say no.

Doing as he was instructed he was surprised to feel the man's fingers being removed from him and he whimpered at the loss of contact.

Grabbing his hair and pulling him close for a kiss; Francis smirked at the utterly bewildered look on Arthurs face. He may have looked bewildered but the fire that smoldered within the jade orbs told Francis all he needed to know to keep going.

The French Nation pushed Arthur down so that he was on all fours and raked his hands all the way down Arthur's side and down to his backside, reaching around so that he could feel just how hard Arthur was for him.

"Merde, Arthur." Francis resisted the urge to lose control and cum on the spot. "Êtes-vous prêt?" It was really more of a rhetorical question and both of them knew it.

"Just get going you wanker" came the British accent thick with anticipation.

"Comme vous voulez" came the smooth reply before French and English mixed together in the form of expletives at the feeling of being together once more.

It only took a matter of seconds before Arthur was moving back and forth against the man he both hated and loved more than anything in the world. Francis moved his hand over Arthurs cock, pumping and matching the pace Arthur was setting.

There were no words; they had been apart too long to ruin this final moment of passion with banter, the only sounds were those of two people making love to one another.

It had been over four years and their dance of passion didn't last long before two names were screamed out in an otherwise silent house along with the sound of two people collapsing on top of one another.

"God I've missed this" Arthur finally broke the silence, reaching over to the side table for a box of tissues to clean up his mess.

After Arthur had disposed of the tissues Francis pulled the man on top of him, wrapping his arms around him tightly "Et je vous ai manqué."

A/N: I have no idea if lube was actually around in mass market form during World War 2 but I did a tiny bit of research on the subject and all I could find out was that KY was invented in 1917 and marketed as a personal lubricant. I did a ton of research to make the war part of this story and the technological parts of it historically accurate so if I'm wrong on the lube thing please forgive me. Also, if anybody actually knows the answer about lube for sex during ww2 please let me know in a review. I'm not promising to change the story to reflect it if I'm wrong, I'm just mostly curious.

And, as always, just like I say every chapter; I apologize, again, if my fail French is fail.

Translation:

Je sais. Je vous aime trop vous le savez. - I know. I love you too, you know.

…mon petit jouet de sexe- my little sex toy.

Obtenez sur vos genoux-Get on your knees.

Êtes-vous prêt?-Are you ready?

Comme vous voulez.- As you wish.

Et je vous ai manqué. - And I've missed you.


	14. Chapter 14

Arthur put up no resistance when they had finally gotten around to getting under the covers and Francis pulled him close. This was unusual because they had a game that they were accustomed to; Arthur would stubbornly insist that he didn't need someone to cuddle with after sex and would purposefully roll over with his back to Francis, but every morning Arthur would always magically wake up secure in Francis' arms.

"It's not that I'm complaining that you've finally given in to my irresistible charms, but it is no fun when I don't have to chase you" Francis teased, kissing the man's forehead.

Arthur didn't laugh at the joke; his thoughts were far from humorous. The day was over and they were getting ready to fall asleep; after he woke up in the morning he would have to leave. "Francis, I'm going to have to return to London in the morning, it's not going to be possible to stay another night." Arthurs tone was formal, something he usually took to when he was trying to hide his emotions.

"You don't have to go; Arthur, Ivan and Alfred seem to be giving Germany all the trouble he can handle for now."

"That's just it, frog, the war could be over soon and I can't have it on record that when the war ended I was off in Paris having some grand ole' time snogging a Frenchman."

"Is that because people might get the impression that you aren't a complete prude? Can't have that can we?"

Huffing in annoyance Arthur attempted to divest himself from the infuriating man's arms but said man held him tightly. "There is no need to worry mon petit Angleterre, I will come to London with you."

"Absolutely not" Arthur's tone was harsher than necessary but the thought of Francis so near the battle made Arthurs heart stop. It was true that Francis was no stranger to this war; he had, after all, been under Germanys control this whole time, but Paris was not devastated like London was.

"Why not? I will not interfere when you're off playing Commander; I just want to come back home with you. Arthur, I lost you for five years and I just now got you back" Francis pleaded and Arthur was aware of the tightness in his voice.

Even though Francis was pouring his heart out, baring his soul to his lover; Arthur could not find it in himself to do the same. There was no way he was going to tell Francis the reason he didn't want him in London was because he wanted to protect him. Rationally he knew that Francis had seen the horror of war from his past and he knew what a city looked after being devastated but, irrationally, Arthur didn't want Francis to see what had become of the once beautiful city of London. The British Nation also didn't want to give Germany any leverage against him; he knew Ludwig was distracted by Russia but if Germany found out the one thing that could completely destroy England he wouldn't hesitate to use that. Maybe he was being paranoid and irrational but he didn't care.

"I'm sorry, Francis, but I can't allow you to come back with me; I can't afford to have any distractions and when you're around me I can't think rationally."

Francis was hurt; he couldn't understand why Arthur wouldn't want him by his side after they had spent a fantastic two days together. He knew that he could be a distraction to Arthur at times, but the Brit couldn't seriously think that he would get in the way of his war time duties; there had to be something else. "Arthur, cher, what's the real problem, I would think that by now you would know that there's nothing you can't tell me."

"Look, stiff upper lip, don't think I'm trying to push you away; I just need you to stay in one place until this war is over, then we can start our life together." Arthur felt incredibly selfish and guilty at what he was doing to Francis but he would take the feeling of guilt if it were going to keep Francis safe.

"Arthur, all I want is to stay in one place; wherever you are is where I want to be. Why are you making things so difficult?" Francis' grip on Arthur loosened a little and both men felt the pain in their hearts from the motion.

The English Nation reached over and turned out the lamp as if to draw the conversation to a close "Just promise me you'll stay here until this…ordeal is over. I swear to you that we will be together when this is all over."

Francis' eyes went wide in a panic "Arthur, now I know I cannot let you go alone; the last time you said that to me we were separated for five years. Please…don't go." Despite what many may think of the French Nation, he was not one to cry often, but hearing those same condemning words again had brought tears to the man's eyes just thinking of the possibility of another time span where he couldn't hold Arthur.

Arthur's heart truly broke at the feel of moisture on his shoulder and he turned to face the heart broken man. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible if he just told Francis that all he wanted was to protect him, of course Francis would immediately disregard the notion as being ridiculous and the argument would start all over again. "Francis, I kept my promise to you didn't I? I came back to you just as soon as I was able to, why would that ever change? I love you, you idiot" he lightly admonished, stretching slightly so he could kiss the man's tears away. "Now let's not have any more of this foolishness, we can discuss it in the morning. Hold me."

Calming himself, Francis clutched Arthur to his chest as if the man would disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough. "If tonight has to be my last night with you until who knows when I'm going to hold on to you all night."

The pair fell into an uneasy sleep; neither of them wanting to go to sleep upset with the other but with having to be up early enough so Arthur could catch the first train left them with little choice.

Arthurs dream did not come that night; instead it was replaced by an image of Francis pleading with him 'Please…don't go' and Arthur would merely turn briskly on his heel and walk off. The image immediately flash forwarded to the London in all its shattered glory and Francis was walking down the street hand in hand with Arthur, the frenchies face horrified by the ruins on the ground and the people forced into homelessness. People spat on the ground where Arthur walked, blaming him for the lack of shelters that been built for the poor and newly homeless, saying that this had been nothing more than a class war; the poor and middle class were forced to find their own shelters or build their own while there remained plenty of shelters for the rich and powerful. Arthur was tortured; he didn't want his beloved citizens angry with him, he had truly done all he could to shelter everyone, he had even argued with the king about the importance of the safety of the citizens. Arthur's dream-self turned to Francis and was shocked to find that Francis had a look of utter disgust on his face. "You didn't help them?" he asked "Look at all these people who hate you; what have you done, Arthur?" Arthur went pale white "Francis? That's not true; I gave the orders to shelter all." Francis let go of Arthurs hand "Apparently they were not followed; and you did not bother to check on these people. You are not the man I thought you were, Arthur Kirkland" and with that Francis disappeared, leaving Arthur alone in the London remains.

Arthur awoke with a start and noticed that he wasn't sweating or screaming; there would be no way Francis would have been asleep still if he had been screaming, but tears were streaming down his face almost of their own volition.

Wiping his tears away he looked over at Francis and was surprised to see that the man's face was troubled even in sleep. Arthur hated to see the man so hurt; especially since he was at fault but there was just no way could he bring the man with him. The British Nation kissed his partner tenderly on the forehead and wrapped the man's arms around him, falling into another restless sleep.

The morning came, as it always did, and when Francis woke he noticed that he was the only occupant of the bed. Looking over at his alarm clock he noticed it was only 5:30 in the morning, there's no way Arthur could have left so soon. Francis panicked for a moment; did Arthur really leave him without even saying goodbye? As if in answer to his question he heard the water in the shower being turned on and he audibly sighed in relief; they had had a disagreement but Arthur would not have left him without saying goodbye.

Shrugging, the French Nation got out of bed and headed straight for the shower; there was no way he was going to miss an opportunity to see Arthur naked one last time.

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and favorites; it means a lot to me! Additionally, I looked up when alarm clocks were invented and it appears that the wind up, mechanical versions of alarm clocks have been around in Europe since the 15th century and that modern radio alarm clocks weren't invented until post WW2. Was anyone else aware that alarm clocks were that old? Now I feel a little silly for having looked it up.


	15. Chapter 15

Stepping into the shower as quietly as possible behind Arthur Francis ran his hands up his lovers' side earning a very unmanly squeal of terror from the British Nation. "You git! You nearly made me die of a heart attack; is that what you want?" Arthur practically screamed at the man, heart still pounding rapidly in his chest.

Francis wrapped his arms around the man "Is this what they call a war hero over in Britain?"

"Do they even have war heroes in France" Arthur countered, annoyed at being snuck up on.

"Of course they do; you happen to be in the shower with one as we speak. Are you not impressed?" In one quick movement Francis pinned Arthur against the wall face first so that the Brit could feel the man's erection against his backside.

Arthur's anger subsided at the feel of the man behind him and he let out a low moan of pleasure "Don't think you can seduce me into anything frog." Arthur spoke the words but even still he assumed the position and let the man enter him.

"This is…this is what I love about showering with you, cher; no need for lube" the Frenchman managed between gasps of pleasure. The two countries moved together in a rhythm that was borne of frustration, anger, guilt and passion; which, by the way, made for fantastic sex. Francis wanted to show Arthur how much he was going to be missed and Arthur silently hoped that Francis understood why he had to leave without him. In one swift motion, keeping himself still inside his love, Francis turned the British Island so that they were face to face, using the wall to help counter balance Arthurs weight.

Crushing his lips to Francis' Arthur tried to make Francis understand how much he loved him; passion was all they had at the moment and they were going to use it to their advantage. "I love you" "Je t'aime" they both spoke at the same time, their body's in sync with each other's.

Forcing them into a slower pace, Francis resolved to make the moment last as long as possible. "Je promets…ah… que je coutume de faire quelque chose…mon dieu... pour vous mettre dans l'embarras" the Frenchman managed to get out between gasps of pleasure.

"That's...not it...yo-don't stop-you idiot" came the British reply "I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you" the British man hitched a leg around his lover for emphasis "How could you even…dear god...how could you think such things?"

"C'est ce que il semble que" came the reply; a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Reaching their peaks, both men fell into a state of pleasure that left them unable to form coherent thoughts or words, collapsing against each other Arthur supported Francis' weight.

They stayed pressed together like that, silent, until long after the water had gone cold, forcing them to rinse off quickly and get out into the warmth of their large embroidered towels.

Arthur was the one to break the silence, wrapping the towel around his waist and moving to stand in front of Francis "I'm not embarrassed to be with you or around you; I need you to understand that fact before I leave. I can't be over in London worrying the whole time that you feel that way."

"Je suis désolé que je suis comme une distraction terrible pour vous" came the hurt reply and Francis moved past Arthur to sit on the bed, pushing back his hair in frustration.

It was at that moment that Arthur realized that he had done something wrong. The two never fought like this; it was true that they did bicker constantly but those fights weren't ever real, those fights were just excuses for makeup sex. Arthur had actually hurt Francis this time and he felt terrible for it but there was nothing he could do, things just had to be this way for now.

The pair dressed in an uncomfortable silence that was unusual for the household, both lost in their own musings. Francis wondered how everything could go so wrong so quickly and Arthur wondering why Francis couldn't understand his unspoken words; they both wondered, though, if they were going to part on such terrible terms.

Knowing that Arthur only got more stubborn when he was upset Francis knew he would have to make the first move if they were going to part on good terms. "Let's not leave this way, mon amour" Francis spoke, breaking the silence and pulling Arthur into an affectionate hug. "If we have to be parted, let's remember our last moments together as happy ones."

Arthur let out a sigh of relief at his lovers gesture of peace and returned the hug with force glad, for once, that he hadn't chosen someone as equally as stubborn to spend his life with.

The pair left the house shortly after and though the two had made up the tension in the taxi seemed to grow thicker the closer they came to the train station, so much so that by the time they actually arrived both men felt physically sick.

"You still have time to change your mind" Francis attempted a joke but his tone had no mirth to it.

"It won't be that much longer; I can feel it." Seeing that his words did nothing to alleviate his lovers pain and worry he knew he had to think of something to say to see a smile on the man's face. "Why don't we make a pact; the day that victory is declared you and I will meet in this very spot at 8pm sharp no matter what happens."

Francis smirked, taking the open opportunity "And what if I have found somebody else to hold my interest by then?" They both knew that there was no possibility of that happening but it was still fun to tease Arthur nonetheless.

Arthur looked indignant; how dare Francis shoot him down when he was attempting to be romantic. "If you find somebody else who is willing to put up with you then I wish the both of you a lifetime of happiness" he countered sarcastically.

Taking that as a challenge Francis threw his devastatingly beautiful smile towards the female attendant who was taking the boarding passes. The woman blushed a beautiful shade of red and Arthur felt the very ungentlemanly urge to rip the woman's head off.

"It looks like I won't have any trouble finding a replacement for you" the Frenchman grinned triumphantly, enjoying every second of this; this was much better than the depressing start the day had gotten off to.

Arthur grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him into a possessive kiss, clearly marking his territory. "Something tells me she won't want you now" Arthur countered.

"Ah, but when you are gone she won't have any competition."

Crossing his arms in an annoyed huff the British Nation pulled his ticket out of his pocket and stalked towards the attendant to board the train. Francis grabbed his arm before he could get too far and pulled him into another kiss "You didn't think you could leave without a kiss goodbye did you?"

Arthur pulled away and smoothed out his jacket "People are staring at us you pervert!"

"Let them stare, mon amour. Now go on, we wouldn't want you to be late."

The attendant smiled at Arthur as she took his ticket "If I were you I would hold on to him." Arthur turned several shades of red and said nothing, moving forward into the train he stopped as if he suddenly forgot something and turned back around, moving through the crowd of people to get back to Francis.

"Did you forget something?" Francis asked with a grin

"I forgot to tell you that I love you, idiot; don't make a spectacle out of it."

Francis laughed and picked the man up in a hug "Je t'aime, Arthur."

Turning to leave, Arthur stopped in his tracks once more "Are you going to be here like we discussed?"

Francis shrugged nonchalantly "Peut-être."

Of course, Francis had every intention of being there on the designated day but it was fun to make Arthur worry just a little. He knew that Arthur would never agree with him but it was a fact that the British Nation was a jealous man and that he would worry so much about Francis not showing up that it would only be a matter of days, possibly even hours before Arthurs paranoia got the best of him and he would be on the phone begging Francis to come stay with him.

The British Islands eyes bulged out of their skull at Francis' vague answer and before he could say anything more the departing whistle blew. He looked at Francis expectantly "Is that a yes, frog?"

Francis shrugged "You better get going, Angleterre."

Muttering several ungentlemanly phrases under his breath the British man boarded the train and took his seat, completely indignant.

The train ride to London took just enough time for Arthur to cool down from his indignant rage and when he stepped off the train at the London station he let out a sigh of relief; it was good to be home.

A/N: This chapter is kind of boring and I'm not really satisfied with it but I read it over about 60 times and can't decide what else I could do to it. The next chapter will be more interesting, I promise. :/

Translations:

Je promets que je coutume de faire quelque chose pour vous mettre dans l'embarras- I promise I won't do anything to embarrass you.

C'est ce que il semble que-That's what it seems like

"Je suis désolé que je suis comme une distraction terrible pour vous.-I am sorry I'm such a terrible distraction for you.

Peut-être-Maybe


	16. Chapter 16

theMaking his way back to his post Arthur had learned that the troops had been re-assigned to clean up duty; there were houses that needed rebuilding, streets destroyed, entire business districts that need to be built from the ground up. There would be a lot of manual labor that needed to be done and Arthur was going to help as much as possible; he had a good relationship with his citizens and he wasn't going to sit back and watch his people re build their own city while he sat around and gave orders; he was going to help. He had built this country with his hands and he was prepared to do it again.

The night came and walking into his house Arthur felt like his usual comfy home suddenly seemed too big. Arthur had always been a solitary person so he didn't have an overly large house; in fact, aside from the overly large garden in the front of the house, it was impossible to tell that any person of importance lived in the house from the outside. Arthur lived in a nice part of town but it certainly wasn't _the _nicest part of the city. It wasn't until one entered Arthurs house that it could be truly told that someone of importance resided within; the library was the largest room in the house and took up two full rooms that were restructured to look like one giant room. The sitting room was filled with materials for embroidery; all sorts of patterns and materials and the walls were lines with needlework that described all of Arthurs highs and lows; with the very center of the wall bearing an embroidery of the Grand Union Flag with the words "4th July, 1776" stitched beneath it. Francis had always asked him in times past why he chose to have that particular piece of art as his center piece and Arthur had always responded "Because it's a part of my past whether I want it to be or not."

That was only the first floor; the second floor guest room was what was truly impressive. The room was filled with what could be only be described as a place that British Museum would envy. The walls were mounted with old rifles and muskets from his privateer days and from the revolution along with rapiers and swords and knives of all sorts; all of them were kept in pristine condition. There were spaces on the wall for several of his old outfits as well; all perfectly preserved in glass cases. Many of his treasures were donated the British Museum long ago but there were some things that he couldn't bear to part with and those things were kept in this room. There was a small bed in the lavish room that Arthur sometimes slept in when he was feeling depressed or nostalgic but it hadn't gotten much use lately.

The rest of the house; the kitchen, bathrooms, and the master bedroom were all simple rooms that could be found in any normal house in London but Arthur didn't feel like visiting any of the three spectacular rooms that made up the Kirkland house hold; he went directly to his bedroom and sighed. The bed in the room was the only thing that could be considered a luxury item; there were several feather pillows adorning it and the bed itself was large and soft, so much so that when one lay on the bed they sunk a good amount. The sheets themselves were a beautiful shade of green silk that matched the color of the man's eyes perfectly.

Arthur loved this bed, usually, but now it seemed too big, too lavish and when he lay in it all he felt was emptiness. He had only spent two days with Francis but having gotten his memory back it felt like it had been forever since he had slept alone. Thinking back to what he had been doing last night at this exact same time, remembering what it had been like to be connected to Francis again made him let out an involuntary moan. Swearing, Arthur realized that he was not going to be able to get to sleep until he talked to the infuriating Frenchman.

Getting out of bed in a huff the Brit stalked down the stairs in annoyance to the phone that was in his sitting room and waited impatiently as the bubbly sounding receptionist placed the long distance phone call.

"Bonjour" came the response on the other end of the receiver after what Arthur deemed to be a 'unacceptable period of waiting.'

"I didn't call all the way over there to here that ridiculous language of yours."

"Arthur?" came the smug reply "That didn't take long; do you miss me already?"

"No, frog, I don't miss you; don't be ridiculous. I was only ringing you to make sure that you were able to sleep."

"And why wouldn't I be able to sleep? I am over here in the country of love; there are plenty of beautiful people I could take to my bed to help me fall asleep."

Arthur had half a mind to hang up the phone right now; he couldn't believe he had been insecure enough to call to begin with.

"Frog, I swear to you if I find out you have been with anybody I will form a peace treaty with Germany and I will convince him that Germany needs a French village!"

Francis' laugh was infectious and the sound of it made Arthur smile against his own will. "Arthur, don't you think that's going a little too far, mon amour?"

Arthur rubbed his temples trying to assuage his oncoming headache "Why did I even bother ringing you? Only you can be this infuriating in such a short amount of time."

"It must be love; you couldn't sleep without hearing my musical voice. Do you need me to tell you a bedtime story Angleterre?"

The line suddenly went dead and Arthur marched back upstairs in the same angry rage as he did coming down the stairs cursing the man he loathed more than anything in the world. Surprisingly though, to him at least, he didn't have any more problems sleeping that night.

After that night Arthur knew that he was going to have to find something to keep his mind off of Francis or he was going to end up with a very large phone bill and migraine every night until the war was over. So the surprisingly domestic former pirate decided that he was going to make needlework in his spare time at night.

The days were filled with thankless labor; there were many civilians who viewed him with contempt, some of them being blunt enough to tell him that he was the reason they were in this predicament to begin with and that they didn't need his charity. Those days were the hardest for Arthur and he came home many nights in a foul mood, but there were others who were eternally grateful to him when he would offer his help and that, almost, balanced out the contempt, almost.

Arthur began to hate the rain; a very dangerous thing to hate when you lived in a city that rained more days a year than it shined. He especially hated the rain at night when he was trying to sleep; he couldn't understand it, there was once a time when Arthur would love to sit up and listen to the rain; sometimes he would even go outside late at night and breathe in the scent of a fresh rain. Now the rain made the house seem lonely and he would often find himself clutching a pillow when he woke in the mornings.

The rain seemed to also make him worry more than usual; every time he sat up in bed at nights he would start to second guess Francis' words at the train station. He had only been joking when he said he might not show up, right? Of course, it was absurd that Arthur would even think such things; Francis loved him more than he deserved at times why would he not be there? Arthur logically knew that his irrationalities were ridiculous, why would the man wait five years for him and suddenly give up now? He couldn't help himself though; the usually logical Briton was going insane thinking about Francis finding somebody else before the war ended. It got to the point where Arthur's dreams would torment him with images of the man with somebody else in various compromising positions that made Arthur sick to his stomach.

It didn't matter how much he suffered internally though; there was no bloody way on earth that Arthur was going to ring Francis and beg him to come to London; especially after he had been so adamant about not letting Francis come to begin with. Sure it would be nice to have Francis with him again but he knew the man would never let him forget it if he asked him to come to London. He could almost envision the French taunts and that alone, coupled with an iron clad stubborn will, stopped the man from calling even though there were some nights where he had the phone in his hand.

Nearly a year had passed since their last meeting; eight months to be exact and Arthur's stubbornness had led him into a state of depression where his paranoia had convinced him that Francis didn't want him and that he had probably already found somebody else.

It was May and the European victory had officially been announced that morning but it was raining, like it always seemed to be nowadays, and Arthur took the rain as an ill omen and he wasn't sure that he wanted to go all the Paris just to be stood up.

There was a tiny voice in the back of Arthur's mind that constantly reminded him that Francis waited five years for him; eight months was nothing compared to that. Arthur liked that voice; it seemed to be the voice of reason against his darker thoughts of late but another voice would always follow; drowning the good one out and reminding Arthur that he didn't actually know for sure if Francis waited for him, he had only assumed it. The two had never actually sat down and discussed what Francis did for those five years so it could be entirely possible that Arthur was wrong about Francis and only wanted to believe he waited for him.

"Well," Arthur thought aloud checking his watch, noting that the time was 2pm "I suppose I still have a few hours to decide if I'm going to go or not."

A/N: So, I looked up telephones during WW2 and long distance phone calls and such and I realize that the process of a long distance call during WW2 was excruciatingly painful. You had to call the operator and announce that you were trying to call long distance and tell them who you wanted to call, then the operator would have to find the number and she would call you back, sometimes hours later when the line actually connected but for the sake of this story, let's just pretend it's not really that difficult.

Also, while I was looking things up for telephones and stuff during ww2 I saw this picture http:/ / socimages / files / 2009 / 02 / 7_to_ and apparently in the U.S. during WW2 the phone companies had this big propaganda thing where they would encourage citizens to not use the phone lines during 7pm-10pm so that the service men who were trying to call their homes could get through; I thought that was pretty cool.

Additionally, in case anybody doesn't know what the Grand Union Flag looks like: http:/ image. /image-server/ image /composition /17008121/ view/1/producttypecolor/ 26/ type/ png/ width /378 /height /378/ july -4- 1776- grand - union - flag_ (I'll leave out the obvious USUK joke)

(Remove the spaces to see the link)


	17. Chapter 17

He would need to be on the 5:00 train if he wanted to be there on time; the problem was that he wasn't sure if he did want to be there or not. He was internally conflicted and couldn't figure out what it was that he truly wanted in life. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he knew what he wanted; he wanted Francis more than anything else but he wasn't so confident the man returned his feelings.

He had been walking among his fair city during his internal debate for over an hour now and it hadn't occurred to him until just now that he had ended up almost directly in front of the train station. He didn't remember deciding to go this direction so how had he ended up here? Arthur cast a glance from under his umbrella towards the sky "Alright, I can take a hint" he muttered making his way to the ticket booth.

Taking a seat inside the terminal Arthur noted that he had an hour before he had to leave which would give him plenty of time to change his mind and get his money back if he decided against it. He idly wondered if maybe he was over reacting about this whole ordeal and when he got there Francis would be waiting for him looking as dashing as ever but at the same time he couldn't help but think of how humiliated he would be if the man stood him up.

Arthur noticed for the first time that many of his depressive thoughts focused on him and how he would feel; he had never once in all this time thought about how Francis would feel if he didn't show up. He could almost envision the man dressed in a white suit obsessively checking his pocket watch and then the look on the poor man's face when he realized Arthur wasn't going to show.

Resolving to make up his mind once and for all Arthur thought about how he had come to this point. He wasn't the type of person to normally mope around and be so depressed; that was for when he had a little too much sauce at the end of the night. Just when was it that he had started feeling like he wasn't good enough for Francis?

It couldn't have been Francis' flirting with the silly little tart at the train station, no, that hadn't truly bothered him. Francis had always enjoyed making Arthur jealous with his little flirtations because he loved how possessive the man could get, and despite knowing this Arthur fell for it every single time.

Arthur furrowed his brow as if that would somehow assist his brain into giving him the answer. What was it that made him end up like this? And then he had it, he could hear the man's words clear as day in his head: _"__And what if I have found somebody else to hold my interest by then?" _ The words hadn't even bothered Arthur when he had said them; he had even shrugged his shoulders at the comment and responded with something of equal wit: _"If you find somebody else who is willing to put up with you then I wish the both of you a lifetime of happiness." _

It hadn't bothered him at first but the words had seemed to sink into his soul since then _"__And what if I have found somebody else to hold my interest by then?" _ It wasn't just his words though, it was coupled with the fact that Arthur was still in disbelief that Francis had waited for him this entire time; five years was a long time to wait for somebody and Arthur wasn't entirely sure that he was worth the amount of love and dedication that Francis had for him.

Shaking himself out of his introspective psycho-analysis he smiled at what Francis would do if he ever heard him thinking such things. He would likely spout some sort of ridiculous poetry about how he loved Arthur whether the man felt worthy of it or not.

Almost as if it was on cue the whistle sounded in the station letting the passengers know the 5pm to Paris was ready to be boarded.

Figuring out where his issues stemmed from did a lot to actually calm the British Nation down, and though he might not be able to fix his self-image in one sitting he had reassured himself that he wasn't going to be stood up by Francis, and with that in mind he tucked his Union Jack umbrella under his arm and took a seat on the train.

The instant Arthur took his seat on the train he seemed to feel lighter as if a weight had been lifted off his soul and by the time the train was pulling into the Paris station Arthur's facial expression had completely transformed back into the usual everyday scowl that Francis loved so much.

Upon stepping off the train Arthur spotted Francis first and his heart constricted at how devastatingly handsome the man looked. The Frenchman was in one of those poses that came directly out of a picture film, leaning against a support beam in a perfectly pressed white suit, one hand in his pocket and the other hand holding a cigarette.

Standing a little straighter Arthur walked up to the man and took his cigarette from his hand, taking a drag himself "I thought you were trying to quit?" he smirked.

Francis' eyes lit up and he wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist "Since the 1600's" he countered before pulling the man into a kiss.

"I suppose you couldn't find anyone else who would put up with you?" Arthur asked in jest though there was a real question beneath the mocking tone.

Francis laughed and kissed Arthur once more "I would have had to look to find somebody, chéri. You sound like you were worried."

Pushing away from the Frenchman Arthur started to walk towards the line of taxi's that were stationed outside the train station "I don't know what makes you think I was worried; I was only concerned that I would arrive here and you would have forgotten our engagement."

Laughing at the sheer absurdity of Arthur's statement he opened the cab door for his love, earning a faint tint of red on the Englishman's face and a mutter about how he was perfectly capable of opening his own doors.

"Combien de temps resterez-vous cette fois?" Francis asked suddenly as the taxi pulled into his driveway a short while later.

Arthur shrugged just like Francis had eight months ago "I'll stay until I get bored of you, I suppose."

Turning so that he could unlock his front door Francis smirked deviously grabbing the Englishman by the arm and pulling him inside, he pinned him against the front door with a passionate kiss the English gentleman would not forget any time soon. "Je penser que je vais devoir trouver un moyen de garder votre intérêt alors" the older nation seductively whispered in Arthur's ear.

Turning a delicious shade of red Arthur attempted to push his way past Francis "I have no idea what you said but I'm sure it's wildly inappropriate."

In an uncharacteristic show of force the blue eyed beauty kept the man in place by pinning his wrists above his head "I think you are lying; I think you know exactly what I said. Maintenant, rester sur place pour que je puisse avoir mon chemin avec vous."

"Do you m...mean to have your way with me right here against the front door you pervert? Have some propriety" Arthur sputtered feeling of a cold hand go under his shirt.

"Oui" came the flippant response before Arthurs shirt found itself on the floor.

Running his hand up the man's bare chest both men let out a low moan of pleasure at the contact.

"Eight months is a very long time to wait, wouldn't you agree cheri?" Cautiously, Francis released his hold on Arthur's hands "Do you think you can be good now?"

The second Arthurs hands were free they wrapped around the man's neck affectionately "If you must molest me in the entryway then get on with it and stop your yammering."

Smiling, Francis knew that that was as close to a blessing that he was going to get and started on Arthurs belt "You're so excited, mon amour, that I believe if you didn't have a belt on you would have broken right through these pants."

It didn't take long for the pair to completely divest each other of their clothes and make up for lost time against the door, and in the library, and in the now fully stocked kitchen where they paused only long enough to share a glass of wine before ending up a tangled mass of limbs in their bed.

"What did I tell you about smoking in the bedroom?" Arthur asked in an exhausted tone re arranging himself so he could rest his head on his loves chest.

"I believe your exact words were 'I don't like it when you smoke after we make love, frog; it gives off the impression that I'm some sexual conquest' Francis responded with a smirk in a poor impression of an English accent.

Arthur sighed "Then why are you still doing it? I thought your resolve was to 'only smoke when nervous' Arthur mocked in a poor impression of a French accent.

"Oui cela est vrai but I am nervous."

"I can't imagine what ever for."

"You love me, non?" the man asked as he reached over to put out his half smoked cigarette.

Arthur tilted his head up to questioningly look in the man's eyes "What are you going on about?"

"Oui ou non, Arthur."

"You know I do, frog. Get to the bloody point."

"M'épouser alors."

Arthur smiled a genuine smile, something that was rare to see on the usually disgruntled man. "Oui" came the simple reply.

Francis blinked in shock "Did you just speak en français?"

Propping himself up on his elbow so that he could reach the man's face and smirking Arthur kissed the man lightly on the chin "Don't you recognize your own language, frog?"

Feeling momentarily high on happiness and love Francis assaulted the love of his life and future husband with a kiss.

"Thank you for keeping it simple, frog."

"Thank you for saying yes, cheri."

A/N: *insert obligatory apology for fail French here*

Translations:

Combien de temps resterez-vous cette fois?-How long will you stay this time?

Je penser que je vais devoir trouver un moyen de garder votre intérêt alors-I suppose I'll have to find a way to keep your interest then.

Maintenant, rester sur place pour que je puisse avoir mon chemin avec vous.-Now, stay put so that I can have my way with you.

Cela est vrai-This is true

M'épouser alors-Marry me then.


	18. Chapter 18

The pair had decided that during their wedding preparations that they would stay in England during the week to help repair the destruction and during the weekends they would stay in Paris. It was exactly the life Arthur had told Francis in their late night ramblings that he wanted. Francis didn't seem to mind being in England so much either; the British citizens seemed to adore the man. He may not have been very good in the manual labor department but he unselfishly took it upon himself to help the citizens of England by way of interior design, offering his help in picking out various color schemes and suggesting furniture.

While Francis was more accustomed to living in a larger house he found the British man's smaller house charming. Even still he practically demanded that if he was going to spend his week days there then Arthur desperately needed a new kitchen.

Arthur had stubbornly refused stating that he liked his kitchen the way it was and that if the Frenchman had his way in the kitchen then he wouldn't be able to find anything if the man wasn't around. Francis had countered with the unassailable logic that Arthur would no longer have to worry about him not being around and to just leave the kitchen to him. Arthur had given in to the man but only under the condition that he teach him what all the new items were so that if he needed to he could use his own kitchen.

The day that the kitchen was completed Francis had taped a piece of paper to each item with its label and a short description, in French of course, with the logic that Arthur needed to learn more French. Upon the discovery, Arthur had foolishly declared he would not even look at the kitchen another moment unless Francis put some English labels up. Francis resolved at that moment he would never change the labels if it kept Arthur out of the kitchen.

The wedding preparation itself was relatively simple; they had decided that they were going to get married in the rose garden that made up their backyard in Paris. The scent of a rose had brought them together again and so they wanted to be surrounded by it on their wedding day.

The pair had initially disagreed on the ceremony itself; Francis wanted to make it a national event so that he could declare his love for Arthur to the world and Arthur wanted a simple ceremony with just the two of them; it would be more intimate that way. Arthur didn't feel the need to proclaim his love to the world; he only wanted to proclaim it to Francis.

After hearing Arthurs logic, Francis had to admit that Arthurs idea was more romantic and thus all that remained left was to plan for their proverbial last nights of freedom.

The discussion of the Bachelor/Bachelorette party hadn't gone exactly as the couple planned. The night that Francis had mentioned that he would graciously cater for Arthurs bachelorette party had sent Arthur into such an indignant rage at the suggestion of being a girl that it had nearly gotten the Frenchman decapitated. Francis had slept alone that night.

Francis had eventually gotten Arthur to agree to a single engagement party with just a few of their friends. Arthur had been annoyed at the ridiculous notion of a party when they weren't even going to have a public ceremony but Francis would not cede on the point of having a celebration so Arthur was forced to compromise.

The couple had agreed that this party would be held under a flag of truce and there would be no hostilities and no politics at this party. Francis had been long time friends with both Gilbert and Antonio and he wanted them there. England hadn't argued the point much; it had been the mention of Italy that annoyed the younger nation.

"Look, I know the party is supposed to be under a flag of truce but you can't be serious here, I know Italy is your little brother and you care for him but we both know that idiot is going to bring Germany with him and if it's alright with you I would rather not have Germany anywhere near my country for quite some time."

Francis, the voice of reason, as always, had argued that the party wouldn't truly be a under a flag of truce if the host wasn't going to follow his own rule and even Arthur couldn't dispute that.

Strangely enough though, inviting half of the Axis to the party didn't stir up quite as much trouble as Arthurs need to invite his former colony. He had been finishing up the final touches on the invitations in bed one evening when he had attempted to casually bring up the subject. "What about Alfred?"

Francis visibly tensed "America? Qu'en est-il lui?"

The darker blonde sighed knowing that this was already going in the wrong direction "I think we should invite him."

The French Nation looked at his lover like he was insane "Are you trying to depress yourself? Should we go downstairs and have a look at the center piece of your collection to remind you of why that's a terrible idea?"

"No, that's quite unnecessary, but it has been over a century since I had any sort of relationship with Alfred, I don't have feelings for him anymore. If you haven't realized it yet it's you I'm getting married to not him."

Francis shook his head "Non, that's not what I meant. I'm not worried about your feelings for him; I am worried that he still loves _you._"

"Do you recall when I first came back to Paris right after your liberation? I ran into Alfred first, he was the one that 'heroically' led me to you. If Alfred had really wanted to make his move, as you say, he could have done it then and I would have gone back to the hotel with him that night instead of you. Now, stop being ridiculous."

Trying to make peace before they both lost their temper Francis took a deep breath "Fine. You can send him an invitation but that doesn't mean I have to like it and if he says one word to you that even sounds like it could be l'amour…"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow in amusement "You'll what? Ask him politely to stop?"

Francis reached an arm over and pulled Arthur to his chest "Let's not worry about it for now, cher, let's go to sleep."

Falling into an uneasy sleep, knowing that Francis was not entirely happy with him, the British Nation dreamt of a blonde that evening but it wasn't the blonde that he shared his bed with.

The days passed and the invitations had been sent out, the house had been cleaned and the kitchen had been fully stocked with food and plenty of alcohol to last the countries a few days.

"Don't you think the amount of alcohol we have is ridiculous, Francis? Why did I put you in charge of alcohol" Arthur asked in an irritated tone, looking at the long table that Francis was in the process of setting up with appetizers and alcohol.

Francis laughed "Arthur, there isn't that much. This might be just enough for Gilbert and me and then if you add in all the beer we bought for America and Germany…" he trailed off.

"I thought you didn't want Alfred here" Arthur countered, still annoyed.

"I don't, but if I get him drunk enough maybe he'll pass out early and the rest of us will be able to enjoy our evening."

Arthurs eyebrow twitched in further annoyance and he spoke in a restrained tone "Francis, for the last time, Alfred has no such feelings and even if he did—"

"Even if he did, you would be completely oblivious" the Frenchman countered cutting him off.

"What do you mean?"

"The answer is basic psychology Arthur; you're over him and in love with me so you have a hard time believing he isn't over you."

Before Arthur could come up with a coherent response the doorbell rang making the two freeze.

Putting his arm around the man he loved, Francis kissed Arthur "This is our engagement party, let's not fight anymore."

Blushing as always, Arthur agreed to put aside their differences and went to open the door.

"Took you long enough, is this what they call British hospitality?" Gilbert and Antonio had arrived together just like everyone knew they would, being attached at the hip.

Rolling his eyes Arthur invited them in and pointed them to where the refreshments would be.

"I know it's difficult for you two but try your best to not destroy my house" Arthur warned the pair of friends.

"Is this guy serious?" Gilbert asked Antonio who merely shrugged in response.

Coming back from the kitchen Francis greeted his old friends with his enthusiasm and was immediately demanded by Prussia to tell the story of 'how the hell he could end up with Mr. Stick Up His Ass.'

The doorbell rang again and Arthur walked away just in time to hear Francis explain to his friends that he was like a layered pie, and that one just had to get through a few layers first before they found the sweet center.

Opening the door Arthur made a conscious effort to smile and be friendly to the German and the guest that was clinging to his arm.

Oblivious as always, Italy hugged Arthur exclaiming his love for weddings and how when everything was sorted out with the war he was going to marry Germany. Ludwig turned scarlet and shoed his lover into the house while giving a courtesy nod to Britain and attempting to catch up to the energetic Italian who had bounded off.

Shutting the door, Arthur briefly contemplated shutting himself in their room while Francis and his friends got drunk but he knew Francis would yell at him later for being such a recluse so he went in and joined his lover.

Upon seeing his lover Francis put his arm around the man's waist and handed him a drink "Here, Arthur, have a drink to take the edge off."

Arthur took the drink with a frown "I will not be coerced into getting liquored up so that you and your friends can have a laugh."

"See what I mean? He doesn't even _want_ to have a good time. How the hell do you put up with that?"

Arthur had had just about enough of the loud German and was going to put a stop to this behavior "Is it customary in your country to insult a guest in his own home because if it is, remind me to never visit. In Britain we aren't as rude as you uncivilized idiots and if you have a problem you can leave the same way you came in."

Grinning ear to ear the white haired German Nation didn't even have the courtesy to look abashed until Francis threw him a warning look.

"Just ignore Gilbert, mon amour, he can be an idiot sometimes" Francis stepped in, halting the fight before it began.

At first Arthur had started drinking so that he could tolerate the idiots in his house, then he had continued drinking because Gilbert had taken it upon himself to be Arthurs personal bartender. Maybe the German wasn't that bad after all.

It wasn't until Arthur was downing his third scotch and relaying to Prussia the _real _history of how the English had graciously given the Irish their Independence in the 20's that there was a loud bang on the door.

Prussia, having heard this drunken rendition before ever so politely offered to get the door. Seconds later Arthur found himself in a crushing hug from a very loud American. "Did you guys start the party without me? That's totally lame!"

Arthur wrested himself from the man's grip and reprimanded him "You are literate, right? The invitation said 6, not 7:30 Alfred."

"We would have been here on time if Mattie hadn't insisted that I buy something formal to wear. I told him that it was a party and that heroes can wear whatever they want to par-"

"Alfred, please, stop talking. You're hurting my head already and you've just arrived."

Looking at the selection of beers Alfred frowned "EKU 28? Warsteiner Dunkel? What _is _this stuff? Don't you guys have Budweiser?"

Germany's eyebrows twitched in frustration "Nein! Your American beers are scheiße!"

"Ja" Prussia agreed "America, you need to be introduced to real beer, then maybe you'll be able to come out drinking with us someday."

Shrugging his shoulders in indifference America picked up a bottle of EKU and took a seat next to England. "So, now that the hero is here we can start the party, right?"

"Ja, I suppose. It looks like Eyebrows is losing his buzz; let me get you another drink."

Noticing his friend picking up the bottle of Absinthe Francis felt the need to intervene "Maybe something else for him, mon ami, Arthur already sees enough fairies."

The party had gone without a hitch until a drunken Italy had climbed on top of his half drunken German lover and started to molest him, not caring they had an audience.

Francis had suggested they move to the dining room and Prussia and Antonio had grabbed as much of the booze and food they could muster in their inebriated states to bring with them before they all heard the sound of a belt being removed from somebody's pants.

Sitting down, Francis pulled Arthur into his lap and kissed his neck "Je t'aime Arthur."

"You have a surprisingly firm grasp for a drunk, you rapist" Arthur pointed out, attempting to escape.

"You like it when I rape you" came Francis' eloquent drunken reply and Prussia and Spain high fived each other at the remark.

"Give it to him" Prussia encouraged.

Finally wresting himself from the older nation's freakishly strong grip Arthur announced that he was going to figure out where Matthew and Alfred had gone off to.

Stumbling his way up the stairs, Arthur found Alfred in his guest room staring at the various artifacts, a beer in his hand.

"You really were great once, weren't you?" the younger nation asked in an eerily serious tone.

Leaning against the door frame for support Arthur ignored the question "How did you know it was me? I'm stealthy you know."

"Anyone could have heard you from a mile away trying to come up the steps."

"Why is it that when I…when I have trouble speaking properly you can speak flawlesally...flaw…you can speak just fine."

"Why did you pick him?"

"Who?"

"What does he have that I don't? I'm the hero after all…" the tone was more hopeless than it was enthusiastic.

The look in the man's blue eyes sobered Arthur up fairly quickly "Alfred?"

"He makes you happy doesn't he? Didn't I make you happy?"

Arthur backed out of the room "Alfred, are you drunk? Didn't you come here with Matthew?"

"Yeah, I did. I'm really happy with Matthew, when you aren't around. I thought that Mattie and I could be together, until I saw you with France tonight."

Arthurs head was hurting from the sudden sobriety check and his heart was hurting from the pain in his former lover's voice.

It had been over a century since the two had been lovers and Arthur had thought back then that Alfred was his soul mate but some wounds just can't be healed and Arthur had never recovered from the wound Alfred's betrayal had left.*

"I don't know what to tell you, Alfred, you've had ample time to do something about it if you had actually wanted to. Now stop acting like a spoiled child, the only reason you have any interest in me is because I'm with somebody else."

"Maybe you're right" he responded in the most self-deprecating tone Arthur had ever heard the man use in his life.

"Alfred, I think you and Matthew had better leave."

The younger nation smiled in defeat "Alright, Iggy."

Arthur flinched at his former affectionate nickname and turned to go towards his bedroom, planning to retire there for the rest of the evening. "Please" he whispered with a hand over his heart, thinking of all the times Alfred had used that name in the past "don't make this any harder."

Appearing in front of him in two short strides Alfred ran his hand up the side of Arthurs face affectionately "Do you really want me to go?"

Pulling away instantaneously Arthur's eyes lit with an emerald fire "America. Get out."

At the use of his namesake Alfred took a step back and slumping his shoulders in defeat he silently descended the stairs and announced to Canada that they were leaving before walking out the front door.

A/N: Several notes here for our underage readers: EKU 28 is an *extremely* strong German beer that is so strong that they are normally not sold in stores in six packs and when it is served in restaurants it is only served with fancy meals.

Dunkel means dark and it is a specific type of beer such as "light".

Absinthe is French liquor that is rumored to make people hallucinate when they are drunk and see "green fairies". Absinthe was actually illegal in the United States up until 2008 because of this.

*Alfred's betrayal: July 4th.

Also, no need to worry, friends, Arthur is not in love with America and isn't going to leave Francis because, after all, this is a FrUk story isn't it? That and the fact that it took, what, 16 chapters to get them back together? They aren't breaking up now lol.

I'm sure some of you are wondering, if they aren't going to hook up then what was the point of this entire chapter? The answer is simple: 1) I want this story to be around 20 chapters so I had to put something fun in. 2) When I finish this story I'm going to be writing a prequel to it that describes Arthur's relationship with Alfred all the way up to the beginning of this story. It will explain how Francis and Arthur ended up together to begin with and it will also explain the real story of why England is the uke. I know a lot of my readers are, obviously, FrUk fans but would anybody have any interest in reading the prequel?

Translations:

Qu'en est-il lui-What about him?


	19. Chapter 19

Letting out a frustrated sigh England decided that he had enough socializing for one night and he was going to let the trio have their fun; the party had mostly been for Francis' sake anyways. He hated that stupid American bastard right now. Why the hell did Francis have to be right, for once? Folding his clothes neatly over the dresser chair he dressed down to his boxers and curled up in bed debating on whether he should wait up for his fiancé' or not. Thinking of the drunken state his lover had been in when he saw him last the British Nation decided that he would let Francis' come up when he was ready and with that he turned out the light.

It wasn't long before Arthur was awoken later that night by a shift in the bed weight. "Francis?" he asked, not even bothering to open his eyes "What time is it?"

Wrapping his arms around his half-conscious lover Francis kissed the man's neck softly "Go back to sleep, cheri, it's a little after three."

Pressing himself closer to his love Arthur sighed contentedly "Did you at least bother to put the glasses in the sink? They'll leave rings on the table…"

"Yes, cher." Francis shook his head at how predictable Arthur was "We made sure to leave your house the way we found it."

"Good. Goodnight, frog."

"Bonne nuit, mon cheri."

The next time Arthur woke up the sun was in the sky and casting its light across the bed, giving a warm sort of glow to the green silken sheets and making the man next to him look unreal in his beauty. It was times like this that Arthur had a hard time believing the Frenchman actually wanted _him_ in his bed every night.

Shaking his head to rid himself of thoughts he would never admit to out loud the British Nation kissed his lover once on the forehead before divesting himself out of bed for his morning tea. He was mildly impressed upon assessment of the downstairs to see that Francis had been telling the truth and the house seemed to be mostly in order.

While he waited for the water to heat Arthur reflected on last night's events and was annoyed to find that he couldn't get the image of Alfred's hurt expression out of his mind. He could still hear the man's broken voice; ' Alright, Iggy…' and he couldn't deny that even after a century's time it still hurt him to see Alfred in so much pain.

It couldn't be helped though; their time had come to an end long ago. The damage that was done from times past was deep enough that the two would never be able to truly reconcile and even if it was possible that it could be fixed, Arthur wasn't so sure he wanted to fix it. He had Francis now and the idiot made him the happiest he had been in a long time.

Thinking of Francis made him feel disgustingly guilty knowing that he was downstairs harping over last night's events and pitying his former lover while his fiancé slept blissfully unaware upstairs. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he decided that maybe he was over reacting just a little bit; nothing had actually happened between him and Alfred last night so why did it make his stomach twist into knots of guilt every time he remembered Alfred's hand on his face?

Arthur's guilt complex was starting to irritate him; why should he feel so bloody guilty over a simple touch? He had seen Francis do more than that to a pretty girl when the Frenchman would try and make him jealous and he had never seen a hint of remorse or guilt in the man's eyes so why was it that he was feeling so guilty?

Sighing in frustration he crossed his arms and decided that he would just have to tell Francis about their conversation even if it did amount to nothing, he just hoped that Francis' wouldn't be overly angry with him with their wedding just a few short days away.

Arthur's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the feel of arms around his waist and lips at his neck "Bonjour Arthur, why didn't you wake me up this morning?"

"You came to bed late; I was trying to be nice for once." Arthur replied casually, taking the pot off the burner.

"Merci, now come back to bed so that I can wake you up properly."

Smiling despite himself at the man's playful nature Arthur chastised the man to stall for time "You can see I'm trying to make tea and if we go upstairs then you'll keep me up there forever with your silly games and the tea will be cold by the time I come back for it. You'll simply have to restrain your libido until I've had my tea."

Francis put his hands up in mock defense "Désolé, désolé, I should have known that nothing can come between a proper gentleman and his tea not even amazing sex."

Arthur was normally irritable enough in the mornings as it was and there was zero chance that he was going to tell Francis about his conversation with Alfr...no, he wasn't going to use that name anymore, America, without getting something to calm his nerves first.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Angleterre"

Arthur was impressed by how astute Francis could be when he wanted to be "Nothing is bothering me, what makes you say that?"

Pinning Arthur between himself and the counter Francis held the Briton in place with his gaze "You aren't that difficult to read, mon cher; your eyes give everything away, they always have."

The Brit both hated and loved the way that Francis could see right through him and he wondered why he had even bothered to attempt to beat around the bush. "America and I had a conversation last night…"

Francis smiled and ran his hand through Arthur's hair "I know, cheri, I know."

"What? How?"

"Gilbert noticed how rude America was being when he left without saying so much as a 'goodbye' to any of us and I got up to see why he was leaving so suddenly. He told me that it would have been 'un-heroic' of him to not tell me what he had said to you and so he told me everything. He told me how he touched your beautiful face" Francis imitated the motion from the previous night and Arthur pulled back as if the motion was painful, and to him it was. "He was heartbroken and I felt bad for him; I don't know why but I did…I think it was because I knew what it felt like to lose you and I understood the pain he felt."

"What do you mean? Francis, you have never lost me."

"Non that is not true. When they told me that you had lost your memory I thought I was going to die then. The way I felt when I thought I had lost you…well, I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anybody, not even America."

Arthur was speechless, he was generally a good person but he couldn't think of a single good deed he had done to deserve somebody like Francis. "So, what did you tell him then?"

"I told him that all he needed to do was open his eyes and he could be happy. Mathieu loves him so much."

Arthur blinked in shock "…you gave him love advice?"

"Oui, I am the country of love, after all."

Shaking his head in disbelief Arthur tried to make sense of the predicament he was previously so worried to tell Francis about. "Right then, so, you got up to confront him and then he confessed that he had just tried to make me leave you…and you retaliate by giving him love advice...? I was worried this entire bloody time that you would be cross with me over the incident and here you are, happy as bloody day."

Francis smiled "As always, Arthur, you get excited over nothing." Taking advantage of Arthur's temporary disbelief, before the shorter blonde exploded, Francis leaned in to kiss his lover tenderly. "I forgive you, cheri, so stop berating yourself" he whispered in his lover's ear.

Blushing furiously, Arthur tried to defend himself "I...just…I just didn't want you to think that I would…well, you're the only man that I…it's just that I..."

Enjoying this immensely, knowing that Arthur was terrible at expressing his feelings, he felt compelled to let the man suffer just a little bit. "Yes? What are you trying to say?"

Knowing exactly what the frog was doing and seeing his too innocent expression only further flustered the usually well-spoken Brit. "I love you idiot and youdon'tneedtoworryaboutAmerica" the last part was spoken too quickly so that the words all ran together.

"Oh? And why is that?" Francis attempted his oblivious expression.

Arthurs face was now beet red and the only thing Francis wanted to do when Arthur got like this was to bend him over the kitchen table and have his way with him. The way Arthur struggled to form such simple affectionate sentences made Francis want the Briton even more than he had when he woke up, but first he was going to make him suffer just a little bit more.

"Don't be an idiot…you know why."

"Non, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Knowing that the man was not going to let him go with his dignity still intact Arthur finally relented "Because you bloody tosser, you're the only person I would ever consider being with and if you ever tell anybody I said that I wi—"

Arthurs indignant rant was cut short by Francis lips on his effectively silencing the emotionally stunted younger nation. "That wasn't that hard now, was it?" the lighter blonde attempted to conceal his smirk but failed miserably.

"Yes, actually it was" Arthur muttered as Francis' skillful lips moved down to his neck and then to his collarbone.

"Are you done with your tea now" Francis asked between kisses knowing full well that he had never even given the man a chance to get the tea leaves out of the pantry.

"Yes, I suppose I am" came the sarcastic reply.

"Bon. Now, come upstairs…"Francis didn't even bother waiting for a reply before grabbing Arthurs hand and pulling him towards the stairs.

Smiling to himself and feeling an invisible weight being lifted off his chest, Arthur concluded that maybe he could forgo his morning tea just this once.

A/N: Just a short and simple fluffy segue way into chapter 20. Thank you to the three people who responded saying they eagerly await a prequel! Is anyone else interested in this?


	20. Chapter 20

"Arthur, will you take my name?" the blue-eyed blonde asked his lover whom he had kept in bed all day, despite the man's constant complaints for the need of food, a shower, and basic sunlight.

"I hadn't really given the matter much thought" the Briton lied easily. In truth he had given a great deal of thought to the matter even before Francis had asked him to marry him.

"Non?" Francis asked feigning a hurt tone. He hadn't missed the gleam in the Englishman's eyes when he had asked the question.

Rolling over on his back Arthur shrugged "I don't really see the point in the matter; 'Arthur Bonnefoy' just sounds ridiculous I do ,however, quite like the name 'Francis Kirkland.'"

Francis's face scrunched up in distaste "Non, it sounds ridiculous, besides mon cheri, I do believe it is customary for the woman to take the man's name."

"You're really pushing it, frog…" Arthur warned, stretching and putting his hands behind his head.

"Is it really so terrible for me to want everyone to know who you belong to?" Francis asked, kissing his way down Arthur's neck to his collarbone.

"I'm not your property, frog, and I don't understand your current obsession with tradition."

"Quoi?"

"You want the big wedding and the engagement party and the reception and now you want this. Why is it all so important to you?" The question may have come out a little more harshly than he had intended but he was genuinely curious as to what had sparked this necessity with traditions. Arthur had never put much stock in them himself; he didn't believe that it would bring bad luck if the groom were to see his betrothed before the wedding and he certainly didn't care for the ridiculous tradition of something borrowed and something blue. None of that mattered though because he had already decided long ago that he would take the man's name; not all traditions were silly, after all.

Francis' blue eyes meet Arthur's curious green ones and he stopped for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Is it so hard to believe, Arthur, that I would want a fairytale wedding with you? Picture it; we could have Notre Dame herself decorated for our wedding. The church would be filled with roses of every color, and we could invite all the people we loved to share in our moment. The lights would be low, there would be candles everywhere and the setting sun would shine through the stained glass window as we said our vows. I would kiss you and the colors from the glass would reflect onto your face and make your beautiful green eyes stand out. We could have the reception underneath the Eiffel tower; Arthur, we could share our first dance underneath it…" he needed no more words for the picturesque scene had painted itself vividly into both of their minds.

"….Don't you think we deserve it after everything we've gone through?" he whispered at length when it was obvious he had rendered Arthur speechless.

"Do you really want all that with me?" Arthur finally whispered back, afraid that if he spoke too loudly the beautiful image of a moonlit dance under the Eiffel Tower would fade.

"Oui. Don't you?"

"Don't you think it would be wrong to have all that? Don't you think it would be wrong of me to be in a beautiful cathedral that was decorated with candles and roses when there are people here in England who still don't have homes?"

Francis suddenly understood where Arthur's guilt complex had been coming from this entire time. He had thought that the man just had unusually low self-esteem lately but it seemed that this war had taken its toll on the Briton. Was this the battle fatigue* that he had heard so many soldiers always fall victim to?

He was, of course, concerned about Arthur's mental state but he was also relived to discover that Arthurs disinterest didn't stem from loving him any less and just knowing that took a weight off of Francis' chest. Arthur wasn't trying to avoid a public ceremony because he was ashamed of their love; it was because he felt guilty about being too happy.

"Arthur, mon cheri, you work so hard every single day of the week to help as many people as you can, but you can't help everyone; you should know that by now."

Francis' wise words suddenly made Arthur feel like he was a very young country once again and looking up to the frog for advice. He didn't know how he could explain what he was feeling without sounding like a complete idiot but he felt like he needed to give some sort of explanation. "I tried so hard and I did everything I could…but if you were to look at my country you'd be hard pressed to say that we came out the victors in this war. Tell me, how am I supposed to simply run off and be happy with you when nobody in my country is happy? That's why it has to be quiet; I don't want everyone thinking less of me than they already do, do you understand?"

"Is that really how you see things? Arthur you need to open your eyes, mon cher, you are simply letting a few angry people over shadow all the good you've done and did. Do you know how many people think of you as a hero for saving the cathedral? Arthur, you're respected and admired here and you're an idiot if you don't see it."

Breaking eye contact and refusing to believe Francis' words, Arthur looked away "I'm sorry, Francis. I don't know what suddenly came over me. I'm not usually so…emotional."

Francis knew that the fact that Arthur had confessed any of his innermost feelings to him spoke volumes to how much he loved him. Arthur was never so forthcoming with his feelings; even at night when they would talk he would have to pull Arthurs feelings out of him. "Don't ever apologize for telling me how you feel, Arthur. I always want to know what you're thinking in that beautiful head of yours, you can always tell me how you feel and I will always listen."

Still not meeting his love's gaze and trying to ignore the overtly sentimental things Francis was spouting Arthur had to, grudgingly, admit the man was right; they were going to be wed and he should be making more of an effort to be less guarded with the man. "Francis, do you think…..do you think I'm right for you?"

"Quoi? Don't you think it's a little late for that?" Francis asked, confused by the man's sudden question.

"No, that's not exactly what I meant. Do you think we're compatible?"

Francis stared at the man incredulously "Arthur, are you having second thoughts?"

"No." the Briton answered immediately "No. That's not it at all. Blast, I can't get out what I want to say. It's just that I…I have never been in such a… serious relationship before…I thought I was once…but, no, never mind that, it's just that I don't always know all the right words to say and well, I'm not exactly an expert at trying to convey how I feel, I'm stubborn and—"

Francis cut him off with a kiss, cupping Arthurs face tenderly but with just enough force so that the man had to look him in the eye. "Arthur, mon amour, are you under the impression that I didn't already know all of this about you? I thought that you already knew that I loved you because of, and sometimes in spite of those things. I have seen every side of you, Arthur, I know you better than you know yourself. Just like right now I know that the reason you're starting to sweat is because of how nervous you are to say the things that you think to yourself out loud to me at last. Cheri, I am not perfect, I don't always know the best things to say, the only thing that makes us different is that I speak the words directly from my heart with little thought to if it is the best choice or not. I speak from my heart because I care for you, just because you aren't the same doesn't mean we aren't compatible, now stop all you're worrying and let me make you feel better. I can't even remember what the original question was anymore."

Allowing the man to wrest his hands from behind his head and pull him on his side so that they were face to face Arthur sighed in relief, maybe he did worry too much. "I believe your original question was if I was going to take your name and I think I will—"Francis attempted to cut him off with a kiss but he put his finger to the man's lips "One second you silly romantic; I wasn't quite finished." Francis pouted and Arthur rolled his eyes when the man kissed his finger. "I will take your name but I will still need to retain my surname for legal purposes. There will be military orders and other official documents that will need to bear the name Arthur Kirkland."

"But" Francis interrupted "when I make reservations for a night on the town then I will be able to tell them to reserve a table for two under the name 'Bonnefoy', oui?"

Blushing madly at the thought of showing up to meet Francis somewhere and giving the waiter Francis' name for the reservation Arthur attempted to avert his eyes, as if that would somehow not allow the man lying directly opposite him to see his blush. Francis had other plans though and Arthur found himself suddenly beneath the Frenchman for the third time that day.

"Oh no. Absolutely not." Arthur admonished pushing the man off him "We've been in this bed all day, I'm going to get a shower, by _myself_" Arthur emphasized when Francis started to follow him towards the shower "and then we are going to get some fresh air."

Francis' smirk fell "But what am I supposed to do with la tour Eiffel?" he asked gesturing to his erection.

"Use your hand" Arthur called, shutting the bathroom door and turning on the shower.

When the pair had finally gotten dressed they left the house hand in hand for a short night time stroll along Westminster Bridge to satisfy Arthurs need for some fresh air.

"What got into you today keeping me trapped in the bedroom all day long like a schoolgirl? You usually enjoy spending time outside." Arthur asked, making conversation.

"You know that I'll be leaving tomorrow night for Paris; I wanted to spend as much uninterrupted time with you as I could today." Francis explained, releasing Arthurs hand in favor of putting an arm around his waist.

Arthurs face paled at the thought of the nightmares that he knew would come if he didn't have the idiot next to him at night and he started to mentally panic. "Are you sure you want to keep with that tradition? Don't you think it's a little outdated? It was originally only customary for couples in an arranged marriage to not see one another before the wedding because it was held that if the groom saw the bride before the wedding and saw that she was unattractive, the groom could back out and cancel the wedding."

Francis laughed at Arthur's ridiculous logic "Arthur is that what this is all about? Is mon beau Angleterre worried that I will leave him at the altar?"

Arthur smirked his trademark arrogant smirk; a time tested defensive mechanism "You wouldn't dare abandon me in the backyard of your own home in your own country although I suppose you are used to retreat."

Francis dismissed Arthur's jibe with a flourish of his hand and returned the proverbial attack with a parry of his own "I might if you were, as you say, 'unattractive'."

Stopping in the center of Westminster Bridge the couple paused a moment to look across the River Thames in silence.

"…and do you think I'm unattractive?" the Briton asked in a whisper.

Francis leaned back casually against the railing of the bridge and wrapped an arm around his love pulling him so that their lips were inches apart and stared directly into jade orbs "Non, Arthur, you are très attrayant."

The British Nation closed the practically nonexistent gap and pressed his lips lightly against Francis' in a tender kiss and his gaze went towards the ruins that still littered the street in some places "We'll get through this depression wont we?"

Francis wisely knew that Arthur's words had a double meaning and what he was really asking was if he was going to get through his depression. Ghosting his fingertips across the man's cheek and knowing that, just like magic, his touch would bring a blush to the man's face he smiled lovingly. "We'll get through this just like we've gotten through everything else since the beginning of time; together."

A/N: So, it turns out I lied; I really wanted Ch.20 to be the wedding chapter but this is what came out instead. So Ch.21 will be the wedding. Sorry!

*Battle Fatigue is the term that was used in World War 2 to describe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD. If you look very closely throughout my story you will see that Arthur meets all the "official" requirements as listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM). Did anybody pick up on this or was I too subtle? I'd like to know for future reference.

Translations:

mon beau Angleterre-my beautiful England

très attrayant-very attractive


	21. Chapter 21

The following day Francis had woken up with a grin on his face that seemed to be impossible to wipe off. Arthur had asked him why he was 'so bloody happy' and Francis had responded with "Arthur, mon cheri, we're getting married tomorrow morning, what is there to not be happy about? Do you have any idea how long I've waited to make you mine?"

After that, even Arthur had seemed a little cheerier during the day; it was impossible to tell by his facial expression but the Briton found himself less annoyed by Francis' advances and was finding it difficult to stay angry with him for any length of time. It wasn't until evening when the pair was sitting on a bench at the London train station that Arthurs mood had started to sour as the day started to come to an end and the prospect of a night without Francis started to set in.

"I've decided that I want you to come with me" Francis spoke at length with some finality, as if this was an issue he had long been debating in his head.

"What? I thought you wanted to keep with tradition…" Arthur was completely bewildered by what Francis had said, he had silently worried and fretted all day, despite his outward show of happiness, over how he was going to bring the issue up and now it seemed he didn't have to worry about it at all.

"Oui I did but you were right; it would be silly for you to not come back home with me so I thought we could compromise."

Arthur was suddenly very apprehensive of the Frenchman, what was the man plotting? "…compromise? How do you plan on that? Are you going to take me home with you and lock me in a closet so that we can't see each other until the wedding?"

Francis grinned in amusement "Non that wasn't what I had planned but now that you mention it…the image of you tied up and helpless is very alluring….we may have to explore that some time."

"We're in public you pervert keep your voice down." Arthur chastised the man, attempting, and succeeding, in suppressing a smile.

"You really should learn to laugh a little more, mon cheri, unless you want those frown lines on your face to become permanent" Francis teased not missing the familiar sight of a twitched muscle on Arthurs face, a clear struggle between the Arthur he loved and 'The Rosbif'; Francis' affectionate term for Arthurs no nonsense personality .

"Just get to the point, frog."

"I thought we could sleep in separate rooms that way I can keep with my 'ridiculous tradition,' as you call it, and you get to come home with me. It is brilliant, non?"

Arthur had to give his lover some credit; the man really could accomplish anything when he wanted to. Maybe if Francis was only two doors down the hall then he wouldn't have to worry about his nightmares. Hopefully, just knowing that Francis was merely a few steps away would quell the terror. "I suppose you are good for some things aren't you, darling?"

Francis pulled Arthur closer to him so that he could wrap his arm around his loves shoulder affectionately "Maybe one night I'll make you tell me just how many things there are that you think I'm good at."

Arthur's cheeks burned at the implication of such a night and he tried his best to ignore the fact that his pants had suddenly become a little too snug. "You're making a scene, you idiot, with talk like that."

Francis laughed and his eyes shifted to Arthurs pants "Non, I think you are the only one making a scene here."

The Englishman let out a sigh of relief when the train whistle suddenly sounded signaling that the passengers could board the train, at least now they could have some sense of privacy if Francis insisted on continuing with talk like that.

Upon entering the train the British Nation shook his head and continued forward to find a compartment for them while Francis flirted with the blushing attendant accepting tickets.

"I suppose I'm going to have to put up with that the rest of our lives aren't I?" Arthur asked when Francis took a seat next to him moments later.

Francis shrugged completely unrepentant "Non, only until tomorrow. I was only keeping my options open."

Arthur rolled his eyes at the man's antics "What? Just in case I decide you aren't worth marrying and call off the wedding?"

"Non." Francis responded grinning like a chesire cat "In case I decide you aren't attractive enough and leave you at the altar."

The British Nation glared at his fiancé "Keep it up…" he warned.

"Or what?" Francis ventured leaning over to experimentally press his lips to Arthurs.

"Or I'll…do…something" Arthur attempted with absolutely no force behind it whatsoever before closing his eyes and returning the kiss.

"…I can't believe you got us in trouble you bloody pervert." Arthur fumed while he waited for Francis to unlock the front door to their house. He hadn't spoken to the man the entire taxi ride to the house.

"Nobody got in trouble you old man and we weren't doing anything wrong." Francis countered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"OLD MAN? You're older than me, frog and like hell we weren't doing anything; my shirt was half undone when she opened the door to tell us we were about to arrive. Can you imagine what she must have been thinking with you in my lap like that and your hand halfway up my shirt?" the man's face was bright red and it was clear he was mortified.

"My guess is she was wondering if we would invite her to join." Francis stated with a smirk, stepping into the house.

Arthur's eyes practically bulged out of his head "You really are a pervert aren't you?"

The Frenchman grabbed Arthur around the waist and kissed his neck, whispering into his ear "Maybe, but I wasn't the one moaning loud enough for anyone in earshot to get a show now was I? I wonder just how far you would have gone…"

Completely indignant Arthur could barely form a response "I wasn't _that_ loud was I…? And even if I was it's your bloody fault you lecherous frog."

Francis shook his head in utter amusement, grinning ear to ear "What would you have said if I had asked her to come play with us?"

Arthur rolled his eyes "You're disgusting, frog , and there's absolutely no way she would have said yes to begin with, she's English after all; she has some sense of decency."

Francis shook his head in disappointment "You really are a cranky old man Arthur, come on, cher, I'll put you to bed."

"I don't need to be put to bed I'm not a child, you know." The Briton protested verbally but did nothing to remove his hand from Francis' as he was led upstairs.

"Then maybe you're too old for a kiss goodnight too" Francis returned with a smile.

"Maybe I am." Arthur stubbornly stated but the tightened grip on Francis' hand said otherwise.

Stopping in the center of their shared bedroom Francis kissed his love lightly on the lips "The next time I see you we'll be getting married…can you believe it?"

"No." Arthur answered shaking his head "I still have no idea how you conned me into it."

"Hmm maybe it's the way that I kiss you?" Francis mused kissing Arthur once more.

"Or maybe it's the way that you force yourself upon me at inappropriate moments" Arthur returned sarcastically.

Francis laughed a musical laugh that was infectious enough to put a smile on the grumpy Britons face. "Mhmm but I think you like it when I force myself on you."

Thinking back to all the times Francis has 'forced' himself upon him Arthur closed his eyes silently willing his libido to calm down. It was deplorable that he could barely keep his libido in check it seemed like these days. "Get out you pervert and let me sleep." he half chastised with a laugh divesting himself from the man's arms.

"Bonsoir, Arthur" Francis said tenderly, stealing one final kiss from his lover before exiting the room for the evening. "I love you."

Arthur sighed in contentment starting to undo his tie "And I love you."

When the lights had been turned out Arthur took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. The bed that was just the perfect size for the couple now seemed overly large and cold without his companion to occupy it. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Arthur stared at the ceiling stewing on how ridiculous he felt for being afraid to sleep alone. He was a nation after all; not some silly child worried over a monster under the bed. Sighing, he closed his eyes hoping he would be able to get through this one last night of sleeping by himself in one piece.

The bed might have been lonely but it was comfortable and it didn't take long before Arthur found himself asleep. It also wasn't long before his dreams were invaded by fire and the sounds of soldiers shouting.

"_Sir! You need to move to the safety of a shelter, the air bombers are out there in force. If any of them see you on top of this roof…" _

"_I already know that you prat! If you don't have any other useful advice then get out of my sight" Arthur's dream self chastised the soldier. _

_Arthur wasn't an idiot; he knew that any moment he could be blown to smithereens but what use was he on the ground? He had an aerial view from atop the roof and that view is what was keeping the English alive right now, he would deal with a little risk for the safety of his people._

_As he surveyed the battlefield that he called home his mind wondered from the thought of the battle raging on in front of his eyes to thoughts of a navy blue jacket and blonde hair and he wondered if Francis had made it out, alright. He cursed Germany silently for ruining his newly blossomed romance with the man; they had only just admitted their feelings for each other a little over a year ago, or rather he had admitted his feelings, and he had been surprised how quickly their relationship blossomed within such a short time, though, he supposed that it wasn't that shocking, he had known Francis his entire life and now his only regret was that it took him so long to realize he loved the man. _

_Cringing as another bomb struck his city he gave the order for the soldiers to go to the spot of destruction and do what they could. He hated the sound of bombs; he especially hated the sound of silence right before the deafening explosion. Sometimes, he thought, the silence before the explosion seemed louder than the actual explosion itself._

_Forcing himself to focus at the task on hand he knew he needed a strategy and he wanted it to be a quick one; the quicker he ended this war the quicker he could go back to his happy life and his beautiful home in Paris. _

_Ducking reflexively as another bomb hit a little too close for comfort he silently said a prayer to the heavens that Francis made it out alive. 'Please' he thought 'I don't care what happens to me; just let him make it home in one piece. Please, if you're up there…I love him so much…-' _

_He was suddenly broken out of his thoughts by the sound of his name being called from a distance. "-irkland!" he could barely make out the words they sounded so far away. Shaking his head from all thoughts of his French lover he looked around and noticed he was utterly alone on the top of the building. 'Where the bloody he—'his thoughts were cut short as the shadow of one of the __Luftwaffe__ loomed directly overhead. "Fuck" he swore before the bomb descended on the building._

Arthur jolted awake into a sitting position in the bed, eyes flying open in terror and body drenched in sweat. "Fuck!" he swore before letting his nerves get the best of him and letting the tears fall freely.

*****Meanwhile*******

Francis turned over in his bed and sighed in frustration, he had been in and out of sleep all night. He resolved to get a more comfortable bed for the guest bedroom as soon as possible. Half-awake he groggily reached over to pull his lover closer and frowned when he all he got was a fistful of covers. 'Maybe Arthur was right after all; this tradition is stupid.'

Sitting up in bed he rubbed his eyes not bothering to cover his yawn, if he didn't get some sleep soon then he was going to have bags under his eyes for his wedding and that was completely unacceptable.

Drying his eyes with the back of his hand Arthur sighed in frustration. Francis was just down the hallway, why was he so bloody dependent on the man? He was going to go to sleep and that's all there was to it he resolved. The instant he shut his eyes though he saw the flames and he heard the bombs and he knew he was never going to get to sleep if he didn't just suck it up and wake Francis up. He felt guilty as hell but he knew Francis would be pissed off, to put it mildly, if he looked like hell on their wedding day because he was too stubborn to wake him up.

Getting out of bed and walking down the hallway Arthur looked at the door to the guest bedroom with contempt. Should he knock? Knocking seemed too formal but barging in on the sleeping man seemed even less appropriate. Wait, why he was he worried about propriety all of the sudden; he was going to be married to the man in just a few short hours.

Standing up a little straighter and clearing his throat he knocked on the door "Francis? Are you sleeping?" 'What a stupid question' he thought to himself 'Of course he's sleeping.'

"Arthur?" Francis asked, shocked that he wasn't the only one awake. "What is it, cher?" he questioned, getting out of bed and opening the door.

"…I couldn't sleep…"

Francis' eyes widened in realization and he wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him into the bedroom. "Was it that dream again, cheri?"

Feeling a little bit like a scared little girl Arthur nodded and allowed himself to be pulled into the bed. "What are you doing awake? Shouldn't you be sound asleep by now?"

"Oui. I suppose I just couldn't sleep without you; I kept waking up and trying to pull you closer and you weren't there" the lighter blonde responded, kissing the back of his loves neck tenderly. Moving from his usual position behind the Englishman so that he could kiss the man's chest Francis was shocked to see Arthurs tear stained eyes. "Arthur, were you crying? You idiot, you should have come to me sooner."

Arthur averted his eyes "I was trying to give you your tradition you idiot. You gave up so many things you wanted for this wedding to make me happy; I just wanted to give you this one thing in return and I couldn't even do that. Are you… angry with me?"

Francis shook his head in disbelief "I gave up those things because I love you, how could I ever be angry with you for needing me?"

Arthur couldn't understand how anyone could love someone else so unconditionally and the more loving caresses Francis gave him only increased his guilt complex until the point where he couldn't take it anymore. "Why do you love me so damn much? How can you love someone who can't even stay in their own bed at night? I'm a bloody nation; I should be able to handle a few bad dreams, shouldn't I? Look at you, your dreams aren't filled with terror and look how much you've gone through."

Suddenly the image of a beautiful blonde girl that had stern blue eyes being consumed by flames while he stood helpless to watch entered Francis' mind and his heart constricted painfully. It had been a very very long time since he had woken up screaming her name but he still remembered those sleepless nights clear as day and he still remembered the sadistic smirk on Arthurs face and the reflection of her burning body in his green eyes

Shaking the image out of his mind and choking back the tears that threatened to flow from the emotions that the painful memory brought, Francis bit his tongue and focused his attention on soothing the beautiful man beneath him. "Arthur, mon amour, close your eyes and I promise I'll keep the nightmares away. Tomorrow when you wake up it will be our wedding day, think on that while you sleep."

Arthur didn't know it at the time, but that night would be the last night he would ever have another nightmare.

"Réveiller you lazy person, some of us have already been up and started breakfast. How can you possibly still be sleeping at 9am?" Francis impatiently poked his bride to be in the rib cage.

"…How can you possibly be awake at 9am?" Arthur groggily countered.

"One of us should be excited for tonight don't you think?"

Arthur grumbled something incoherent into the pillow and muttered "Go away, I'm trying to get my beauty sleep."

Francis grinned, pulling the covers off Arthur who wasn't quick enough to grab hold of them "Well, cheri, you will never be as beautiful as me so you should get out of bed and face the facts."

One green eye opened and greeted Francis with a glare "I thought you said I was beautiful, frog."

"I knew that would get you to open your eyes, now up" the over eager Frenchman stated, pulling Arthur into a standing position and wrapping his arms around him.

"…G'morning to you too, Frog." Arthur mumbled returning the embrace.

"Is that any way to talk to your husband on his wedding day?"

"Are you implying in some way that I'm the wife….?" Arthur asked in a half threatening tone.

"Non, of course not" Francis lied completely "Now, let's get a shower and go downstairs for breakfast. I even have a pot of that ridiculous stuff you call tea brewing."

"Are you sure showering with me on our wedding day isn't against some ridiculous tradition?" Arthur asked while stripping down and heading to the bathroom to start the shower.

Stepping into the shower behind Arthur Francis kissed the younger nation on his neck "I think it's time we started to make our own traditions, what do you think?"

Arthur smiled a genuine smile and turned around to kiss his love on the lips "I think that's the best idea you have ever had, darling."

Arthur had promised Francis that he would let the man have creative control over the rose garden they were to be wed in and Francis had promised him in return that he would not be disappointed. And as Arthur stood just outside the door to the garden at precisely 6pm his breath was taken away by the site.

Their garden was large, outlandishly so for the size of house they had but that was what they both agreed on when they had bought the house together.

Their garden was split up into three parts respectively, the left side of the garden which was designated as Francis' half of the garden had a single large topiary that was shaped into a fleur de lis and surrounded by various flowers. The right side of the garden, which was designated as Arthur's side, had various rose bushes that made up the symbol of the tudor rose. The middle of the garden was lined with rose arches and had a paved walkway that led directly to a beautiful rustic fountain in the very center.

The night time lights in the garden were turned off and the only light there was came from the dozens of little candles that lit the walkway to the very center of the garden and the full moon in the sky.

There was no music for Arthur to walk down the aisle to but as he strode towards his one true love, he decided that he preferred the soft summer breeze and the natural sound of insects chirping than any organ music they could have selected.

"So you decided on white after all?" Francis said in a low reverent tone when Arthur had reached him.

Arthur only smiled in response, being unable to take his gaze away from the beautiful azure eyes that said so much right then.

The man they had invited to officiate their private ceremony was a personal friend of Francis' who just so happened to be a priest. Arthur had initially protested saying that he didn't want a religious ceremony but Francis had insisted on this point and Arthur had eventually caved.

The priest looked kindly on the two men who were obviously very much in love and spoke softly "I understand that both of you have written your own wedding vows that you want to share with one another. Francis, would you like to share first?"

Francis nodded and cleared his throat before he began "Arthur, I wasn't sure what I should say to you in my vow, we have both been through so much together that it was hard for me to tell you that I will always be there for you no matter what because it seems like the 'no matter what' has already come and passed. The only thing that I could think of to tell you was the one thing that you already know; that I love you and that now that I have you I promise to never let you go and keep you by my side for eternity. I promise that I will always be there for you; when you are at your weakest and when you are at your strongest. I promise that I will never stop making you blush and I promise that even when you don't want me to I will hold you in my arms and comfort you, but most of all I promise to be yours in every way." Ignoring the tears that threatened to escape any moment from his own eyes, Francis reached up one wiped the tears that managed to escape from Arthurs eyes away tenderly.

The smiling priest nodded in Arthurs direction, encouraging him to start when he was ready.

Standing up a little straighter and making sure to keep his eyes locked on Francis' Arthur spoke the vows he had written in a perfect and clear tone: "Francis, quand je me suis assis pour écrire mes vœux, j'étais certain que les mots pour te dire comment tu me bouleverses et que je t'aimes allaient me venir naturellement, mais cela s'avéra plus compliqué qu'il n'y paraissait. Je cherchais les mots pour décrire combien tu es important à mes yeux, decrier comment je ne suis rien sans toi à mes côté, mais rien de ce qui me traversait la tête était à la hauteur de mes attentes. Je voulais écrire de superbes versets de poésie digne de Baudelaire*, mais en lisant toutes les œuvres de l'auteur, j'ai réalisé que rien de ce qu'il a écrit ne pouvait parfaitement décrire le vide que j'ai ressentit quand j'ai oublié notre amour et encore moins ce que j'ai ressentit quand je me suis à nouveau souvenu de tout. C'est là que j'ai réalisé que je n'avais pas besoin des mots d'un poète célèbre; j'avais seulement besoin de me tourner vers mon cœur pour y dénicher les mots que je cherchais si désespérément et qui étaient aussi simple que "Je t'aime". Je jure de toujours resté à tes côtés, de t'aider à te relever lorsque tu va faire une chute, je jure d'être à tes côtés tout les matins quand nous allons nous réveiller, je jure de ne jamais m'endormir fâché contre toi, mais par dessus-tout je jure de t'aimer tout les jours jusqu'à la fin de ma vie et à continuer de t'aimer dans l'au-delà."

Francis' eyes spoke all the words that he was currently incapable of; they spoke of love, they spoke of confusion, they spoke of awe, and a small hint of pride was hidden somewhere in the blue orbs. He didn't actually think it was possible that anyone anywhere could love anyone as much as he loved Arthur right now the force of that love was almost making him incapable of standing.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur for both of them; they spoke the words spoken millions of times in the past. Then came the time to exchange their wedding bands; silver for Arthur and gold for Francis, and when it came time to kiss the proverbial bride, their lips locked in a tender and passionate kiss that seemed to be such a private moment that the priest respectfully turned away with a smile.

After they had bade goodbye to the priest Francis had sat on the bench next to the water fountain and pulled Arthur into his lap. "I thought you didn't speak 'frog'" he smiled, kissing the man tenderly.

"I lied" came the Britons reply before he stood up, pulling Francis with him.

"Where are we going?" Francis asked "Don't you want to stay outside for a while longer? It's a beautiful night."

Arthur shook his head, leading Francis to the house "I have a better idea."

The both stopped when they reached the door to that lead into the house and Arthur blushed, looking down "Don't you dare try to carry me through that doorway or I will break your arm."

Francis smirked as Arthur set his shoulders in a manly fashion and attempted to walk the extra step to open the door. Once the door was open, Francis took his window of opportunity and in one swift fluid motion he stuck out his foot successfully tripping the prideful Brit and catching him in his arms. "Looks like I'll have to carry you" he grinned carrying the man through the doorway and setting him down on the other side.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" Arthur grumbled, brushing off his white tuxedo and attempting to hide his blush, but failing miserably, as always.

Running his hand up the side of Arthurs face gently, Francis kissed the man once more "I can't seem to get enough of you tonight. Now, tell me, s'il vous plaît what is your 'better idea?'

Arthur smiled "Grab your car keys, I want that dance."**

~Fin~

A/N: Happy fruking 107th Anniversary of the Entente cordiale! The perfect day to post this chapter, non?

*Charles Baudelaire was a very famous French poet; essentially he was the French Shakespeare.

** In case anybody forgot, Arthur is referencing the moonlit dance under the Eiffel Tower that Francis mentioned in Ch.20

If anyone cares, I went back and added a link to all the chapters so people could read the story more fluidly. I also fixed the weird formatting on Ch. 4.

No that's not a mistake, people, Arthur spoke French wedding vows. 3

My take on Arthur is that he's fluent in French and he just pretends to not understand any of it to annoy Francis and because he loves his English. To me, it makes perfect sense because Francis and Arthur spent a lot of time together in his childhood so why wouldn't Arthur have picked up on it? On a more historically accurate note, French was the official language of the English court during the 11th/12th centuries.

Here is a link if anybody is interested in reading more about French as the official language of the court http: / homes. chass. Utoronto .ca/ ~cpercy /courses/ 6361Heys .htm

Additionally, this is the image that I was basically trying to convey for the rose garden scene

Left side of garden: http: / t3 .gstatic .com /images ?q=tbn: ANd9GcR8iFxIMoqQduU0yKTMEg-CVEUkLb1KquoqbOqTNy P0OVu3f0J2

Center of garden: http: / www. Nationaltrust . /main/ w-039433-nymansgarden-rose _ arch -gallery _picture

Right side of garden: http: / www .bbc. co .uk /hamptoncourt/ images/ 446x251/ tudor_rose .jpg

Since this is the official end of my story I want to take the opportunity to thank a couple people:

Mirianna16 from : Who so graciously took time out of her day to translate the wedding vow for me and correct some of my fail French in previous chapters. Thank you SO much!

aLx-nichoLe from Deviant Art: Who constantly helped inspire me with ideas and even RP'd with me so I could get into the characters heads a little better. She also gave me the amazing idea if England crawling into bed with Francis this chapter, so thank you! Also, thank you for listening to me bitch when I had writers block and encouraging me to keep writing.

8Kairi8 from Deviant Art: Who is my little sister and has been a great source of inspiration to me and a great sounding board for ideas!

Also, thank you to everyone who has faved/watched/added me to story alert/rated me 4 stars on D.A., , and . Doubly thank you to all those who consistently commented on my chapters with encouraging words.

Translations:

Réveiller: "Wake up"

Arthur's Wedding Vow: "Francis, when I sat down to write these vows I was certain that it would be simple to say how I felt about you and to tell you how much I love you, well, it turned out that it wasn't so easy. I was looking for the words to describe how much you mean to me and to describe how utterly useless I am without you by my side but nothing I thought of seemed to fit. I wanted to write some spectacular verse that was worthy of one of Baudelaire's sonnets, but through all my readings of his sonnets not one of them described how I lost I felt when I couldn't remember our love and not one of them described how utterly complete I felt when I finally remembered. That was when I realized that I didn't need the words of some great bard; I only needed to turn toward my heart to find the words I was looking for so desperately and that they were as simple as 'I love you.' I promise to always stay by your side and help you back up again when you fall, I promise to be there every morning when we wake and I promise to never go to sleep angry with you, but more than that, I promise to love you every day of my life and beyond."


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